In Love and Music
by Saiyachick
Summary: -:-1890 London-:-Edward Cullen was the finest pianist in Pierce Academy that was until he met the equally gifted Isabella Swan. In this defiant girl he found a rival, and most unexpected, love. With ghosts haunting them from their past, how can they heal?
1. Chapter One: Defiance

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter One: Defiance**

-:-

"_I shall seize Fate by the throat; it shall certainly not bend and crush me completely."—Ludwig van Beethoven_

**August 21, 1890**

His nimble fingers caressed the keys of the fine instrument, eliciting a sound full of ardency and fervor. A lover's song. His expression remained composed, but his eyebrows creased as he concentrated on the musical piece before him. Deep eyes of green hardened into sharp emerald jewels, cut to mirror his intentions. At last, his visage relaxed as the final keys faded into the echoing room.

A roar of applause filtered the room as the man ceased his playing. Murmurs of awe and marvel escaped the mouths of many, causing him to smirk with conceit. He knew that he had won the crowd—there was no sense in continuing the recital. No one could match the beauty of his playing.

He took a quick bow and walked off of the stage, winking at his many fans. The girls back stage squealed with excitement as he flashed them a dazzling smile. He then turned to his right, grinning. "So, how did I do?"

"Must we add fuel to the fire?" Jasper asked, dryly. "You know you did excellent, cousin."

Edward smiled arrogantly. "And that is why I am Pierce Academy's most accomplished pianist."

"Well, you may have some competition," Emmett whispered to his friend, nudging Edward in the ribs. "There is a new girl."

"What?" Edward asked, his expression suddenly going blank.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Have you not heard? We have a late arrival. She is Rosalie and Alice's new roommate.

Their attention was diverted to the stage as an instructor began to speak. Next to him stood a girl of seventeen, her reddish-brown hair put into an elegant bun, and a look of relaxation on her face. The instructor motioned for her to sit, and he then began to speak, "May I present, Miss Isabella Swan."

She sat in front of the pianoforte, sighing briefly before beginning her piece. Her fingers moved in a fluid motion, drawing out a profound, harmonious tune. She moved lithely, her face soft with concentration as she focused solely on the music. Her devotion caught everyone's attention, even Edward's.

He listened as her piece began to tell a story, slowly tickling his ears. The girl's playing was charming, though not as fine as his own. No one was as gifted as he was. His mother was a grand pianist after all. Edward simply was the best. But, he could not help but be in raptures as she continued the melody, listening as the keys chimed in unison.

The minutes passed, and she finally finished her performance. She stood quickly, curtsying to her listeners with a meek expression. Pools of blood stained her cheeks, blushing as the audience cried out words of appraisal and gratitude. She walked off stage, giving a coy smile to all of her admirers.

Edward stared at her, catching her eyes, and arched an eyebrow. His look was intimidating, challenging her to _try _and best him. Instead of receiving the expected look of hesitance, Edward saw something shocking.

Her dark eyes burned with defiance.

-:-

**Authoress Note**: Edited. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I'm glad that all of you find potential in this story. I appreciate all of your comments.

I would like to thank my fantastic Beta Leiahlaloa. She makes me look good. Haha!

Much love.


	2. Chapter Two: Awakening

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Two: Awakening**

-:-

_ "You require but a simple 'Yes'? Such a small word -- but such an important one. But should not a heart so full of unutterable love as mine utter this little word with all its might? I do so and my innermost soul whispers always to you."-- Clara Schumann_

**August 21, 1890**

Edward frowned, droned out the incessant prattle of his piano instructor, and stared at her from his peripheral vision. This new girl—the defiant one—had caught his attention. She was intuitive, pert, and yet there was a certain naivety in her air. Her cinnamon eyes would soften when one of the younger students made a mistake on a key.

An irritation etched on her face as the instructor would snap at the children, mocking them to the point of tears. Edward could almost imagine her jumping out of her seat to defend the downtrodden.

But she sat like a proper young lady. _Another prude_, he assumed within his thoughts. _Just another girl to play the pianoforte—wooing her listeners...brainwashing them to arrange a marriage between her and one of their sons…_

"Mr. Cullen!"

His gaze fell sharply upon his instructor, unnerved. "Yes, Mr. Rochford?"

"If you would be so kind to show these pitiful students how to play this piece properly," the instructor said dryly, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Or would you rather continue staring at Miss Swan?"

Edward's eyes widened slightly as all stared at him, but one. She raised her head for a moment, biting her lip, and continued to stare at her lap. A faint blush pooled in her cheeks at the instructors words. "Mr. Rochford, we both know that I could do both," he replied arrogantly, smirking as Bella rose her head in shock.

She watched as he strode towards the piano, never diverting his gaze from hers. He sat upon the bench and began to play the sweet melody perfectly, putting emphasis on the notes that the younger students have missed. His eyes were smoldering, challenging Bella once more, but she remained aloof.

The younger students applauded in awe, and Edward in return bowed to his admirers. His gaze narrowed towards Bella's in amusement. He took enjoyment from the fact that his very presence infuriated her. Perhaps the year was far from being a bore; Edward rather looked forward to pestering the newest student of Pierce Academy.

"Despite his impetuous behavior, many of you could learn from Mr. Cullen," Mr. Rochford said. "You are all dismissed for the remainder of the period except for Mr. Cullen and Miss Swan. I will return shortly, and I hope I do not have a reason to bring in a chaperon."

Though the shock was not apparent, Bella was surprised by the instructor's demands. Edward leaned back against his chair, sprawling himself in a comfortable position. He observed Bella, boldly gazing her way. "Now, Miss Swan, why so nervous?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And what gives you the impression that I am nervous, Mr. Cullen?"

He noted the soft, defiant tone of voice she carried within her air. "You seem unsettled. Instructor Rochford may seem like a braying ass, but he means well."

"It is not the instructor whom bothers me."

"And who pray-tell deserves that right?"

"Oh, I think we both know the answer to that, Mr. Cullen." Her eyes danced with mirth as a playful smile formed on her lips.

"I am honored that you put me in such a position."

"That was _not _compliment."

He chuckled. "I am only making an observation."

"I would not be so hasty with your conclusions, Mr. Cullen."

"And what is wrong with my judgment? I happen to find that I have a good sense of character. Why, just yesterday—"

"Are you always this proud, Mr. Cullen?"

"Are you always this upfront, Miss Swan?"

"Why yes, I am. I do not pretend that all is well when it is not. I rather dislike the pretenses many uphold.

"I do not know what to think of you." His face was intense, sharp, a twinkle glowing in his eyes. "You _intrigue _me."

"Ah, let me appraise your _sharp wit_."

"Yes, please do."

Bella narrowed her eyes, muttering, "Arrogant, conceited—"

"Thank you for noticing," Edward lifted his head as if he were basking in a spotlight. "My arrogance and conceit keep my youth fresh."

"You are insufferable!"

"You have not seen the full extent—"

"Mr. Cullen, I ask you not to scare off Miss Swan." Mr. Rochford returned to the room, sending a rare smile at Bella. "We had to fight to have her join Pierce Academy."

Edward's eyebrow rose with interest. "Fight?"

"That is unimportant. Now, I have asked the two of you to stay for a reason. Her Majesty, the Queen, will honor Pierce with her presence for the winter recital." He turned to Bella, offering an explanation. "The winter recital enables Pierce's advanced musicians and singers to put on a production."

"That is a very amiable thing to do," she replied.

"Yes, yes," Edward drawled, bored, "_I _already knew of the winter recital, or have you forgotten that you have been my mentor for the past year and a half?"

Mr. Rochford glowered. "Mind your attitude, Mr. Cullen. In spite of your brilliance with the piano, you are dancing on the fine line of my patience. Now. I have asked the two of you to stay because you both are the finest pianists in London."

"Pardon?" Edward straightened his posture, his eyes perking at what he heard. "_Both_? There must be a mistake—_I _am the most accomplished pianist—"

"—as I was saying," Mr. Rochford said loudly, his voice overpowering his pupils. "Both of you are to work together. You must use each other's talents to compose a lovely song for her majesty. A collaboration."

"Work—" Bella started, grimly.

"—together." Edward said, slowly

"Yes. Headmaster Charleston has reserved the last portion of the winter recital to the both of you. Pierce Academy's fate rests in your hands." His eyes narrowed fiercely. "I advise that you work peacefully. Dismissed!"

Bella rose immediately and quickly exited the room. Edward gathered his items in a rush, attempting to chase after his newest amusement. Before he could make it out of the door, Mr. Rochford stopped him. "Stay for a moment, Mr. Cullen."

He scowled, turned around, and marched back to his seat. "Yes, Instructor Rochford?"

"I expected more out of you."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Patronizing the world will get you no where," he commented, staring out of the window. "You could become a professional pianist if you were not so vain."

Edward laughed, mirthlessly. "A professional pianist? I think not."

"What are you doing here? Why do you continually enroll in the Academy?"

"It is what my mother would have wanted."

The conversation had ended there. Mr. Rochford waved his hand, his gaze intent on the scenery. Edward gathered his items, filed out of the room, and quietly closed the door.

-:-

Bella rushed through the dorm halls and arrived at her room. She took the key from around her neck, unlocked the door, and entered the room. The morning's recital and lesson had completely drained her. She let out a heavy sigh as she entered the room, but paused across the threshold when she realized she wasn't alone.

Two girls sat by the balcony, basking in the day's sunlight. They ceased their conversation and turned towards her with smiles. One of them, a petite black-haired girl, sprang from her seat to greet Bella. "You must be Isabella Swan," she said, her voice filled with kindness. "I am Mary Alice Brandon, but I suggest you call me Alice."

"Or else she will nag you till you bleed." The other girl, a statuesque blonde, rose from her seat. The smirk on her face held a certain familiarity. "Rosalie," she said, nonchalantly.

"It is a pleasure to meet the both of you." She fumbled with her items nervously. "Please, do call me Bella."

Alice laughed. "I suppose we are one in the same. I must say, your piano playing this morning was splendid.

"Oh, it was nothing."

"No need to be modest." Rosalie smiled at the memory of the morning's recital. "I rather enjoyed the look on Edward's face. It was absolutely unforgettable."

"Indeed. He is in need of a little competition."

"Do you mean Mr. Cullen?" Bella pressed her lips into a thin line. The thought of Edward boiled her blood. "Yes. I had to endure five hours of his haughty behavior."

"I take it that you are not fond of him." Alice grinned and sent a look to Rosalie.

"He is the most insufferable, condescending, presumptuous man I have ever met!"

Rosalie cleared her throat. "Dear me. How awkward."

"How so?"

"Well...my surname is _Cullen_—Edward is my cousin."

Bella's eyes widened, shocked by what she heard. "O-oh. I apologize. P-please—"

Both Alice and Rosalie burst into a fit of laughter at Bella's reaction. "Oh, Bella. Do not fret. We already know that Edward is an arrogant little monster."

"Regardless, it was very rude of me to say such a thing."

Alice continued with her laughter and shook her head at Bella's naivety. "My dear, _Miss Swan_. Thing are not what they seem in Pierce Academy."

"What ever do you mean?"

"She means that behind closed doors, Bella, there is a whole new world. Our whole lives, we have been dictated. We have been told who to marry. What to wear. How much. Where. _Our _lives have been controlled by another person." Rosalie gazed heatedly at the girls, angry. "We do not go by titles, nor do we act as society deems fit."

"Rosalie," Alice warned.

"Come off it. It is better she knows now. I would rather not keep our reality a secret." Rosalie's stare directed upon Bella's. The intensity from her pale, blue eyes caught her attention. "My intentions are not to scare you off. We live a different life here in Pierce. Of course our conduct is done in the privacy of our lives alone; professional by day and alive by night."

"That seems…reasonable." Bella shrugged her shoulders, sitting on the vacant bed that was given to her

"It isn't as if we are some harlots of the night." Alice pranced to her side, taking a seat upon the bed. "We just…want to live."

"No, no. I understand. The oppression and overbearing lifestyle we endure is far too imprisoning, sometimes."

Rosalie quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "I like this girl already." She walked and sat on the other side of Bella. "Do not feel pressured to join us. We will respect your decision to refrain from our company."

"Why would I not want to be in your company?"

"The men, the indulgence of spirits, and the cigarettes."

"Rosalie!" Alice exclaimed, scolding her friend. "You make us seem like common whores of Scotland Yard!" She turned to Bella, giving her an apologetic smile. "Pardon us. Rose means well. She meant to say that we converse with men—the boys of Pierce—without chaperones. We act as our own guardians."

"Oh."

"And the liquor—that is mainly for the men. A bit of scotch _can _soothe the nerves. The cigarettes as well; the men do occasionally smoke when we visit the billiards."

"Billiards?" Bella asked, astonished. "Surely a pub would not accept young ladies—"

"You would be amazed at what we have discovered." Unabashed, Rosalie rose from the bed and nodded her head. "Afraid?"

The silence lasted for only a moment. Bella stared down at her hands, at Alice, and then finally at Rosalie.

"No," she said in a strong, sure voice.

"Good."

"Lovely!" Alice looped her arm through Bella's, her vicarious persona breaking free once more. "How about you join us for lunch?"

"Oh, I do not know. I must finish unpacking—"

"Nonsense! I shall help you after we have eaten. Every advanced student attends choir in the afternoon. We shall have plenty of time." Her eyes glimmered with enthusiasm. "You could meet the boys!"

"Boys?

"Rosalie's brother, and my beau, Jasper Cullen," Alice swooned, clasping her hands together. "And Emmett McCarty, Rosalie's fiancé."

"Congratulations," Bella said, smiling at Rosalie. "So I assume you have all known one another since childhood?"

"You could say that. Rosalie, Jasper, and Edward's friendship was inevitable due to their kin. Emmett attended school with both the boys when we were younger, and I became friends with Rosalie during infancy."

"That must have been nice." Bella fumbled with her possessions and sat them upon her bed. "I suppose you are right. I _do _need to eat something. I am famished."

"Welcome to Pierce Academy, Bella." Rosalie sauntered to the door, the triumphant family smirk on her lips. "Welcome to reality."

-:-

**Authoress Note: **I must apologize for my lack of updates. School has proven to be such a big obstacle! I am taking a big course load of units to prepare for med school, so I apologize. Thank you for every one of the kind reviews you have given me. Honestly, I did not think that this story would be such a hit! A few people are afraid that this may end up like **Love in Affliction**—believe me…it won't. As you may have read, this story is a bit more about teenage rebellion and hardships.

I must thank my lovely Beta, Leiahlaloa. She truly is fantastic. Take a gander at the stories she has to offer—now _there _is sheer brilliance.

Much love.


	3. Chapter Three: The Red Room

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Three: The Red Room**

-:-

_"I love music passionately. And because I love it I try to free it from barren traditions that stifle it."--Claude Debussy_

**August 21, 1890**

Edward sat in a pensive state, an apple pressed against his lips, pondering. That new girl, Miss Swan, _Bella_, was peculiar. Her very presence tapped within the depths of his mind. He knew her. He knew that name from long ago. Her persona, her very _air_, seemed familiar. Surely he would remember such a haughty girl, but he could not put his finger on it.

"Although it may be crisp and sweet, the kiss from an apple compares not to that of a woman's," a voice drawled, amused.

"I am sure Edward has been educated in that area, Jasper." Emmett nudged his bronze-haired friend and winked. "He has had his fair share of experiences."

Jasper grinned mischievously. "Perhaps he has moved on to men—ouch!" His hand shot to his head where the pain began to spread. The offending weapon, an unbitten crimson apple, rolled across the table unmarred. "I was merely jesting, Edward!"

"Not. Funny." He hissed angrily as his hands clutched into fists. "You may be blood, but I will have no problem spilling it."

"Someone is touchy," Emmett mused, muttering into his mug.

Edward's glare averted from his cousin's to that of his friend's. "I am not _touchy_!"

"Oh come off it, Edward. You are acting like a woman enduring her monthly curse."

"Jasper has a point. All day you have been quite moody and silent. This behavior does not suit you. By now you would be prattling on like the arrogant pest you are."

"Continue with the insults. _Really_, I do appreciate all of your lovely comments." Edward placed his arms upon the table, resting his head against them

Emmett placed his drink down. "Fine. What is bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Child." Jasper scoffed, earning him a shove. "Well it is true. Now either you come out and tell us what is wrong, or leave us be to enjoy our lunch."

Edward glowered, nibbled on a piece of his baguette, and remained silent.

"Mr. Cullen!"

"Yes?" Both stared at one of the instructors.

"I am speaking to Edward."

"You know, that can become annoying over time," Jasper murmured.

The instructor ignored his comment and turned to Edward. "Are you eating before everyone has been seated, Mr. Cullen?"

"Er…"

"Surely you know that is not allowed."

"Of course. I would never dream of committing such a _horrendous _act," he replied as he dropped the piece of bread back on his plate. Satisfied, the instructor walked away, scolding a group of first year students. Edward then turned his attention towards the boys. "I thank you both for being utterly and completely useless."

"Not a problem."

"Any time," Emmett chortled.

"Now, now. What kind of gentlemen are you?" Rosalie sat at her assigned seat across from her love, a daunting smile playing on her lips. "Teasing Edward without us?"

"It is no fault of ours that you are tardy, Sister." Jasper smirked at the formalities, and then took notice. "Where is Alice?"

"I think you mean Miss Brandon," the blonde said teasingly. "She and Bella will be here shortly."

Edward's head shot up at the mentioning of her name. "So you have met?"

"But of course. She rooms with us." Rosalie popped a grape into her mouth, ignoring the pert stare of an instructor. "Do you expect for us to ignore her?"

"What would that prude have anything to do with the lot of you?" Edward snorted.

"Prude? I must say, Mr. Cullen, I have been called many things but never a prude." Bella sat across from Edward, a sardonic smile on her face.

Alice walked towards the table, smacked him across his head, and took her seat. "How very rude of you, Edward."

"Do not mind him, love. He is a bit touchy."

"For the last time, I am not touchy!" Edward sat back in his seat as he made an attempt to regain his composure. "I was merely making an observation of Miss Swan's behavior."

"Really? I thought I heard a _statement _rather than an _observation_." Bella shot him a challenging stare. "You are quick with your words."

"Pardon if you cannot endure such blatant honesty."

"Blatant honesty would require knowing someone or something for more than one day. Your ignorance breeds your accusations."

"Quite the hypocrite you are, Miss Swan. You preach how I am quick with my words—"

Emmett roared with laughter, clapping Edward on shoulder. "I have to agree. You are a bit ignorant."

"And conceited."

"Irritating."

"Touchy," Jasper whistled.

Edward narrowed his eyes, miffed by his family and friend's actions. "It is a conspiracy!"

"No," Bella said, laughter echoing in her reply. "It is the blatant truth."

He blinked for a moment, staring at her with the utmost regard, and then grinned. "Touché."

Everyone silenced as the headmaster took his seat at the head table and began speaking. Edward ignored the incessant prattling and stared intently at Bella. The girl had wit. His presumptions of her, as shocking as it may have been, were false. Perhaps she had more to offer than a pretty face and whimsical music. He truly was looking forward to the upcoming term.

"—daydreaming as usual."

"His eyes are glinting with mischief.

A swift kick in the shin brought Edward back to the present. He hissed, eyes darting to his cousin. "Graceful. Very graceful."

"Reflexes," she said, coolly.

Sarcasm wetted his tongue, "I am sure."

"I thought it was impolite for you to drone us out while we were conversing."

"My apologies, Rosalie."

"That did not sound very genuine."

"Never satisfied, are you?"

"Mind your words or my reflexes may return."

Emmett cleared his throat. "Where is it you studied your music, Miss Swan?"

"Please, do call me Bella." She stared down at her plate, prodded her food with a fork, and made no attempt to continue. "And this is my first time attending an academy."

"But how did you acquire such a talent?"

"I had a private tutor," she mumbled quietly. "Enough about my dull life. What musical gift does each of you possess?"

"Cello," Emmett said.

Rosalie shrugged, "The viola."

"Violin," Jasper replied.

Alice stared, bored, around the room. "I play the harp and sing."

Before Bella could question her friend's foul mood, the headmaster dismissed the room to resume their courses. Together, the boys and girls filed out of the room, down the halls of Pierce to attend choir. Each student stepped into their row of expertise. Alice stood in the first spot, being the accomplished singer, following other boys and girls.

"How do you fair, Bella?"

She stared at Rosalie, shrugged, unsure of her expertise. "Well I am nothing compared to Alice, I am sure, but I am not horrid either."

"Then you shall stand next to me."

"Only if she sings like a banshee," Edward mumbled, a grin appearing on his face.

"Oh just you wait, Edward. When mother arrives for her visit this week, I am going to tell her it was _you _who ruined her prized _Monet _painting!"

He paled, his green eyes softening with plea. "Aunt Esme will have my head!"

"Perhaps you should learn to mind your manner."

Bella giggled at the display between cousins. She found the whole situation awfully amusing. "So that is what it takes to tame the beast?"

"I am wounded, Miss Swan. You laugh at my dismay?"

"It is quite refreshing to see you in another light."

"Pity, for I dearly enjoy the darker side of life," he said, waggling his eyebrows with suggestion. A light, playful growl escaped his lips. "I can show you a true beast."

Before Bella could reply, a shrill voice interrupted. "Mr. Cullen!"

Edward turned grimly. "Hello, Miss Ismay."

She giggled. "And how have your holidays been?"

"Quite well. And yours?"

"My Papa has made plans to name a ship after me!"

"How…charming."

It was not until that very moment when she noticed his gaze fall upon Bella's. Her face darkened as she turned to her. "I do not believe we have met. I am Cecelia Ismay."

"Isabella Swan."

"Swan…perhaps you are related to the farmers in Greenwich?" She asked scornfully.

Rosalie stepped from her spot, giving Cecelia a venomous look. "Tell me. How big will this ship be?"

"My father said it will be the largest thus far."

"Lovely. It will need to be quite sizeable to sustain your busting ego."

"No need to be jealous, Miss Cullen," she sniffed as she made an attempt to regain composure. "I am sure my father will be more than happy to invite your family on its maiden voyage."

"Least he could do since it was _he _who came to _our _family, begging like a plebian."

Before Cecelia could respond, the instructor walked into the room, silencing the class. She stood at her podium, a pleasant look on her face. "Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Instructor Shields."

"I presume you have all had a pleasant holiday? Good. We shall begin today's lesson by exercising our vocals. Most of you have not been practicing as I asked. I am sure of it." Her gaze fell onto her star student, eyes softening with affection. "With the exception of Miss Brandon."

"My mother has made quite sure of it."

"And right she is. Now, let us start with an octave, Miss Brandon."

Bella stared, astonished, at Alice's voice. Despite the high or low notes, her tone was chiming, a gifted song from the heavens. It would make any cherub envious. The ladies of the opera would be enraged with jealousy. But there was one thing that Bella found strange about Alice's singing, one thing that seemed to isolate itself from the perfection.

Her face, soft with undeniable affection, became masked with despair. There was no strain of concentration. There was not one trace of enjoyment. Her crystal, blue eyes had set into midnight as her exuberance faded away. Alice sang with such confidence, almost heartbreaking to a spectator, but there was no passion. No conviction.

She silently watched as the musical notes slowly carried the petite girl away.

-:-

Bella sighed heavily as she collapsed upon her bed. After her choir course, she had a private lesson with Instructor Rochford. Following the lesson, a small break was given for the students, allowing them to roam the grounds of Pierce. To end her day, she had just finished a music lecture on analysis and composer techniques. She could barely keep her eyes open throughout dinner.

"You are _not_ going to bed."

She groaned softly, pressing her face against the blanket. "Yes, I am."

"That was not a question, Bella. It was a statement."

"Rosalie, I am far too exhausted."

"The night is still young." She pulled the pins from her hair, the blonde locks cascading down her back, and walked to Bella's bed. "There is much to see."

"And what is it that we shall see?"

"Every day is filled with surprises, but the question is, can _you _handle it? Can you open your eyes to the truth and not deny what you see? Speak now, _Miss Swan_, for there is no turning back after tonight."

Alice glared at Rosalie. "Cease your prattling. We are not a cult."

"I enjoy the dramatic ambience."

"Frightening the poor girl will not help the situation."

"I will not have a decent nights sleep with the lot of you," Bella said as she rose from her bed. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on escaping this prison?"

"We have known the night shifts of each professor since our first day of attendance. Surely you would not think of us to leave so blindly."

Three sharp knocks came from the door. "Are you ladies decent?"

"You may come in."

The door opened and revealed Emmett. He changed from his uniform attire, donning a pair of trousers and a simple shirt. "Edward and Jasper have secured ours means of transportation. Ready?" His eyes then targeted on Bella. "Surely you are not leaving dressed like that."

A frown formed on her lips as she stared at her school blouse and skirt. "Do I offend?"

Alice pursed her lips for a moment. "We cannot pass the street as students. The constable will have our heads, not to mention the scolding from our mothers and fathers." She shook her head, pushed Emmett back to the door, and winked. "Give us a few moments, will you?"

"Strip your uniform." Rosalie said as the door closed.

Her brown eyes widened in shock. "I beg your pardon?"

Without an answer, the blonde pulled her behind the dressing screen, and waited. "There is no time for questions, now, will you undress or will it be by force?" She smiled mirthfully as a blush graced the other girl's face. With that, Rosalie walked from behind the screen.

Alice opened each of Bella's trunks, rummaged through the vast amount of material, and sighed. There had been an array of gowns, petticoats, and corsets. They were all lovely, of course, but too formal. "This will simply not do."

"It is awfully cold, you know."

"Well, most of your clothing is designed for debutante balls and parties. I cannot seem to find—ah! I have found one." She pulled out an emerald colored gown and other articles of clothing. 

Alice walked to the side of the dressing screen, helped Bella lace her corset, and secured the gown.

Bella stared at her reflection in the vanity. The gown accentuated her body nicely, pooling over her hips in a shapely manner, the green complimenting her complexion. Rosalie appeared behind her, slowly taking out each pin from her hair, allowing the confined locks to spill down her back. A fur-trimmed cape then adorned her shoulders, the hood pulled over her head.

"Perfect."

"I look as though I am a child bride." Bella said, her tone blunt from dismay.

"But a beautiful one," Alice playfully cooed. She then grabbed her hand, Rosalie following, and opened the door.

Emmett shushed the ladies before they could utter another word. The halls were dark, quiet from a day's exhaustion, solemn and somber. They crept through the academy so as not to caution the patrolling instructors. Regardless of their maturity, despite knowing the difference between right and wrong, the rules of adulthood, their carelessness overshadowed all sensibility.

Her heart pounded, rapidly, and she almost feared that the others could hear. She too knew of the repercussions that the night may lead to. The severity was undeniable. She was a thief in the night, a bandit, any person she wanted to be. That was the beauty of darkness. Any flaw, any _affliction_, could easily be hidden in the shadows. This one night—this illusion—gave her the chance to be someone other than Bella.

As they slipped past the doors, a sudden twinge of fear brought about her better judgment. What if something had gone wrong? Perhaps someone would notice her, a past suitor, one of her kin; it was bound to happen. Her stomach churned at the thought. She sucked in a deep breath, a sense of unease flowing through her veins, veracity burning in her blood. If they were caught—

_Oh, Gods. _She thought, panicked. _If they were caught…_

"Bella!"

She turned to Alice, startled, letting out a breath. "What?"

"Get into the carriage!" she said in a fierce whisper, pulling Bella inside.

A chuckle came from the dark corner of the carriage, a gas light lighting half of his face. "Ah, so she _does _come out at night."

"A mere flickering flame," she replied.

"But in the end, all candles seem to fade."

"Salvation, Mr. Cullen, is what keeps the last spark alive." Her face softened into a pensive state. "Regardless, the extinguished flame may be reborn."

"A lover's quarrel. Touching," Jasper said in a mocking tone.

"Lover's quarrel? I think not!"

Edward snorted. "Indeed. What a preposterous thought!"

"Well, the both of you bicker quite like a betrothed couple."

A faint blush stained Bella's cheeks. She lifted her stare, glancing at Edward for a brief moment. Through the darkness of the carriage, she could have sworn she saw a crimson glow of embarrassment upon his face. Her eyes then landed upon her lap. She sat, meekly listening to the others' conversation.

"Where have you boys decided on tonight?" Rosalie asked.

Emmett pulled her close, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Jasper said he has found a new spot."

"I heard of this place from Andre Donovan. You heard about his exploits with that French courtesan, I presume. Well, apparently her aunt has opened this new place not too far from the area."

Alice blanched at Jasper's words. "I pray that you are not leading us to another lush brothel."

"Love, that was one time. How was I to know that the little glock lied to me?"

"Perhaps you should do a bit more research." Rosalie sniffed irritably, angered by the memory of that night. "I did not enjoy having men ask me '_how much?_'"

Bella's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "No!"

"Yes," Edward responded happily, remembering the incident.

"You continue your laughter, dear Cousin. If I am correct, I do remember a rather large spinster mistaking _you _for a man-whore!"

"Rosalie! You promised not to speak of that moment!" Laughter sounded among the crowd. Edward sat, mortified, as they chortled at his expense.

"You lie," Alice giggled, tearfully.

"She even gave him a pat on the bum!"

The remainder of the ride consisted of shared stories from past experiences. They told Bella of their first encounters, of their lives, of everything. Ten more minutes had passed until the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

"We are 'ere, mate." The coach called, a thick cockney accent resounding in his voice. One-by-one they exited the carriage, and stood in front of a dim-lit building.

"Be here when the clock chimes two." Jasper shook the man's hand, discreetely slipping him a few pounds.

"Right, Guv."

They entered the building, gave their coats and capes to the servant, and were immediately greeted by a bourgeoisie woman. She was dressed in a scarlet gown, short of appropriate, with a cigarette balanced in between her fingers. A lavished grin formed upon her plump lips as she spotted the group.

"Welcome to The Red Room, my dears! I am Madame Luxure, Mistress of this club. Please come, relax, and have a bit to drink." She smiled and had a servant show them to a table. "Bring this lovely group a round of scotch."

"Merci, Madam Luxure." Alice said, returning the courtesy.

Once they sat, Emmett grabbed his drink, holding it up. "To start the night."

"C'est la vie!" Edward said, mimicking his friend. He drained his glass, eyes glazed with mischief. With a nod towards Bella, he gave her a quizzical look. "Anything the matter?"

"No."

"Ah," His tone filled with acknowledgment. "Is the angel afraid of treading on liquid brimstone?" He leaned towards her ear, whispering, "Heaven's gates will open for you."

Bella stared at her full glass, hesitantly taking a sip. She grimaced at the taste in her mouth, but tipped her head back to get over with the unpleasantness. Her throat burned, eyes watering at the effect, cheeks slightly flushed.

Edward smiled as he watched her, enthralled. "Bravo."

"It will become easier, Bella." Alice traced her finger along the rim of her glass. "Do not consume too much at one time. I learned the difficult way."

"Yes, by almost revealing our secret rendezvous'!" Rosalie sighed, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a cigarette and placed it in between her stained lips, taking a drag as Emmett lit the tip. "Oh, how I do abhor that Cecelia Ismay."

"You cannot prove it was her, Rose."

"That little shrew had a vindictive smile on her face when she walked out of Headmaster Charleston's office." Her face contorted with rage. "Was it a coincidence that the Headmaster accused us of indulging on spirits right as she left?"

"Was she the girl from our choir class?" Bella tilted her head to the side.

"The very same. Such as monster she is."

"And a perfect match for our Edward." Emmett reached over to pinch Edward's cheek, chuckling at his friend's frown. "They shall spawn beastly children to bring about the apocalypse!"

"Come off it!" He downed another glass of liqueur, ran his hands through his bronze-colored hair, and shrugged back into his seat.

Jasper clapped a hand upon his shoulder. "It is not Edward's fault that the chit lusts after him."

"Who does _not _lust after me, Cousin?"

Bella rolled her eyes at the boy's comment. "And the arrogance resumes."

"It is not arrogance, love, it is a fact."

"I am amazed at how you can manage to speak so clearly through your drunken stupor."

"Madam, I give you my word that I am not drunk." He looked at her from beneath his eyelashes, and winked. "Yet."

"You are insufferable!"

Jasper shook his head and ordered another round of drinks. Everyone indulged on the sweet liqueur, intoxicated by seductive taste, sharing stories and laughter. They danced in merriment, basking in the free-spirited nature. When there was not dancing, there was a production being put on for entertainment. It was not surprising to see why The Red Room was so successful.

During the gaiety, Bella had to excuse herself, claiming the use of the prep room. As she entered, she walked straight towards one of the unoccupied mirrors, shocked to see a face unknown to her. Dark, amber eyes stared back at her, vicarious and bright. Blood pooled in her cheeks, warming her face from the events. Her hair was down, unruly with life, yet not unattractive. The girl in the reflection was a stranger to Bella, but she wished with every fiber in her body that the strange would become a frequent acquaintance.

Happy with her observations, she turned to exit the restroom, walking away with glee. The place had been full to the point where the Mistress had to turn away guests. Bella pardoned herself as she made her way through the crowd. In midst of the chaos, a hand shot out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to the bar.

"Allo there, gorgeous. How about you let me buy you a drink?"

Bella stared at the sandy-haired man, snatching her wrist back, livid. "I think not."

"Come now. Do not be harsh with me." He stepped closer, intent on his offer. "Just one glass?"

She stepped back until her back pressed against the wall. "I really should be getting back to my company."

"They can wait."

Before she could say another word, a hand slid across her waist. She felt herself being pulled into the arms of a warm body. Never in her life would she have thought _he _would bring her such relief.

"There you are, love. I have been searching for you!" He exclaimed, his emerald eyes cut into twinkling facets, lips pressed against her hair. "All is well, darling. I have found your ring."

The man stared at the display between Bella and Edward. "This bird is with you?"

"Yes."

"Courting her?"

"Actually, no." He faced her, smiling, and slipped a ring on her finger. "My fiancée. Just asked her yesterday. Right, love?"

"Yes," Bella replied. She held up her hand, wiggling her finger. "It is far too small for my finger."

"We will do something about it tomorrow."

The man did not look convinced. "It does not seem like the lot of you are betrothed. More so acquaintances than lovers."

"Really?" Edward quirked an eyebrow. "Well, would mere acquaintances do this?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around Bella's waist, barely an inch between their bodies, and pressed his lips firmly against hers. He tilted her head, coaxing her to join him in the staged rhapsody.

Yet, she did not yield to his power so willingly. She stiffened in his arms, alarmed and panicked. He had taken her by surprise. An array of emotions fluttered throughout her body, her pulse quickening, adrenaline pumping, unsure of what to do. She felt his hold on her waist tighten, kissing her more fervently sending her heart into a frenzy of palpitations.

He slowly pulled his head back, breathing heavily, but pressed a softer kiss upon her lips one last time. Turning back to the man, he smirked. "You were saying?" The man did not say another word, only walking into the crowd, muttering angrily under his breath. His gaze fell back unto Bella's. Her cheeks were red, whether from the lack or air or embarrassment. She was breathless. He watched as her chest rose and fell in a synchronous rhythm.

But her eyes, those vulnerably endless eyes, betrayed none of her thoughts. They were close, as if she had dozed off into another realm, a dream, placed under a spell like a princess in a fairytale. Edward raised his hand, caressing the length of her cheek with his finger tips, amazed at the warmth of her stained flesh. "Open your eyes, Bella."

She did not respond immediately, yet her eyes opened with an endearing reluctance. "Oh," was all she could manage.

"Oh?"

"I was not dreaming."

His smirk widened. "Yes. I do seem to have that effect on people."

"Pardon, I meant it was not a _nightmare_. That vile act you enforced upon me was a harsh reality."

"Well that is not beseeming. Shall I kiss away the bittersweet taste in your mouth?" He asked, pulling her into his embrace once more.

She gasped, enraged. "You scoundrel!"

"That was not your response but a minute ago, I assure you."

"_You _kissed _me._"

"Yet you obliged."

"You...you…"

Smiling victoriously, he stared down at her. "Speechless?"

"You can remove both that smirk from your face and your hands from my waist."

"You know? I quite like them where they are, however, I thank you. It was a kind suggestion."

Feeling his hand move, Bella placed hers upon his, though it itched to slap him senseless. "I swear to the Lord, if your hand slips any further—"

"When has it become a sin to touch my own wife?"

"Greed, lust, and gluttony," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Need I say more?"

Edward feigned disappointment. "Pray, how are children created?"

"I will not discuss the acts of intercourse with you!"

"Your naivety is absolutely adorable." He saw her turn to leave, but grabbed her wrist before she could wander off into the crowd. "What do you bloody well think you are doing?"

"No need for such language, Mr. Cullen. If you must know, I am searching for Rosalie and Alice."

"Not without me. Would you like a repeat of what occurred only a few minutes prior?"

She pursed her lips, allowing him to guide her through the club. "Why did you have a ring with you? Plan on marrying Madame Luxure?"

"Very witty, Miss Swan. No, that is not the reason why I carried this ring. I assumed Rosalie and Alice would persuade you to join in our festivities. Since the lot of them are as good as married, I thought it wise to keep an eye on you."

"And the ring?"

"These clubs may be here for fun and laughter, but all is not what it seems, Miss Swan. There are bad people among us. They prey after single ladies. They commit the most atrocious of acts." He paused for a moment, clenching his hands to his sides. "I knew you would be a target."

"W-well," she stammered, but cleared her throat. "That did not give you the right to be inappropriate with me!"

"Love, that kiss was chaste. If you would like for me to demonstrate inappropriate, I will gladly abide." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a swat at his shoulder. "A low attempt, yes, but an attempt nonetheless." His eyes roamed her figure, unashamed, appraising her like a piece of art.

"What is it?"

Edward stopped a few inches before their table. His face softened as he caught her confused gaze. "You look lovely tonight, Miss Swan." With that, he left her, losing himself into the massive group of people, losing himself in The Red Room.

-:-

Authoress Note: Yes, yes, I know you all want to send me to the guillotine for not updating sooner. I apologize, profusely, but hopefully this longer chapter will make up for the time. I am trying with all my might to keep up with everything. I want to send a small warning to everyone that this is not like **Love in Affliction**. This will be less cutesy, lovey-dovey, etc. It is about rebellion and discovery. Mature themes may be used. I hope you enjoyed. I also have some exciting news! I got accepted as an author on Pel's site. Yay!

And last but certainly not least, I would like to thank my lovely Beta reader Leiahlaloa. What a fantastic person. Also giving thanks to my friend Angela for helping me out.

Much love!


	4. Chapter Four: Unwanted

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Four: Unwanted **

-:-

"_A rare genius whose innocent yearning for affection was expressed in music as pure as spring water."—Valerie Grove_

**September 1, 1890**

A heavy, frustrated sigh echoed in the vacant practice room. Her eyes strayed towards the clock, yet the action only seemed to have given rise to her irritation. She had been waiting fifteen minutes for her partner to appear. As the first five minutes had passed, she had given him the benefit of the doubt, knowing Edward had private lessons with Instructor Rochford prior to their rehearsal. But after another five minutes had gone by, the consideration she held turned into fury.

Her fingers splayed upon the keys, caressing cool ivory beneath the tips, pushing them until a sound chimed in the room. She played each note alone until her hands found a familiar rhythm in E minor. A medium toned ballade spilled from the piano, isolated on its own, until higher notes followed the suit in their own manner. With her right hand, she continued with a soothing, yet piercing melody. Tragic, but hauntingly beautiful.

She closed her eyes, memories flooding into her vision, solemn and unforgettable. Her heart raced with a fierce tempo, the blood rushing in her veins, head throbbing as she relapsed. It was as if she were watching a play of her own life. Her own imperfections. Her greatest tragedy. The heat of the spotlight was almost tangible, and she could almost feel their intent stares. She could almost hear the announcement of a surprise composition for the recital, and the whispers that soon followed after the minutes passed.

A few tears escaped her eyes as the song slowly died away into the bitter chill of the practice room. They opened to her present life, lost and mournful, almost daring to turn back the hours of time. But even she knew she made the right choice. There was no turning back. Not anymore.

"Bella?"

She turned almost immediately to her right. "Alice?"

The lithe, dark-haired girl walked towards the pianoforte, taking a seat on the bench next to her friend. She pulled out a handkerchief, offering it. "That song you played was lovely."

"Thank you," Bella responded, to both gesture and comment. She dabbed at her eyes, making a sad attempt to stop the sniffling. "It is nothing really—"

Alice raised a hand, shaking her head before Bella could finish. "You need not explain. I understand." She pressed a finger to one of the piano keys, drawing out the octave, humming sweetly with the sound. "I saw the forlorn look in your eyes. There is no need to deny it." A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she pressed her hand upon the keys, disrupting the harmony. "I know that look far too well. I know what it is like to live a life that is not your own."

She picked up her head, staring deep into Bella's eyes, speaking once more. "Perhaps our situations are not the same. It is undeniable that you hold some sort of affection for the piano, but I did not misread what I saw. You held the same look, the same _agony_, as I do when singing. It is almost scary, to see your emotions, almost a reflection, evoked from another."

"Alice?"

"I like to dance. Ballet, specifically. I have always held a passion for the art. It began when I was a child. My mother would send me to Paris for the summer's to stay with my grandmother. You see, my grandmother was a strict but open-minded woman. She was more inclined to dancing than singing. In her eyes, I was born to be her little ballerina."

A soft look graced her eyes, brightening as she reminisced, and then absentmindedly, she began speaking. "This past winter was unforgettable. We attended the Imperial Mariinsky Theatre's debut showing of _The Sleeping Beauty_. It was just exquisite. Carlotta Brianza did a marvelous job as Aurora. I will never forget the way Pavel Gerdt blushed as he was about to perform the awakening kiss. I am sure that was not in the rehearsal for Prince Désiré to do so."

"Oh, Alice. You do not have to—" Bella started, reaching out to pat her friend's hand, witnessing the unshed tears in her eyes.

"I find it ironic, you know, how my grandmother became the epitome of _The Sleeping Beauty_…except a kiss will not awaken her. She left this world only a week after our venture. Pity, for we were to see a promising new ballet. _Swan Lake_, it is called." Slowly, Alice rose from the piano bench, fumbling with random objects, humming. "She died peacefully in her sleep. The doctors blame the cold weather of Russia."

"Do you still dance?"

She did not respond. Alice kicked off her shoes, and in one quick movement she began to rise like an angel ascending towards the heavens. Sinuously, her left leg lifted into a perfect angle, toes pointed, while her body seemed poised upon her right foot alone. Her left arm grasped towards the ceiling as her right glided behind her. Then, her body shot across the room in a graceful production, gliding through the air in a full split, arms extended in front of her.

In those movements alone, Bella could see the apparent thrill that ballet gave Alice. She seemed free, like a bird soaring through endless blue skies. Witnessing the intensity and concentration was breathtakingly beautiful. The conviction was irrefutable. Clearly, as demonstrated by Alice, singing did not provide the adrenaline she needed.

Bella watched as the dark-haired girl landed on one foot, tilting her lithe frame towards the floor, right leg pointed towards the ceiling, her weight supported on the left. "That was magnificent."

"Thank you." Alice straightened her posture, perching herself upon an instructor's desk. "And as far as anyone is concerned, no, I no longer dance."

"Why is that?"

Irritation fixated upon her face, lips curling with anger. "My cousin attended The Bolshoi Academy for ballet."

"Pardon. I did not mean to pry."

"I know that," she said, softly. "But I feel as though I can trust you, Bella. Call me a fool, but I do not trust so easily." With a deep breath, she continued. "As I was saying, my cousin attended the academy. You see, I am not close to many of my kin. They are quite vicious with their idealisms and such. Needless to say, I was at odds with my cousin. She was always selfish. She did not care much of others nor their well-being.

She was like us, in a way, but we would never take it to her extent. What others thought did not sway her in the least bit. While in Russia, she became quite the flirt, despite her betrothal. Eventually her vices led to disdainful repercussions. She was with child the last time I saw her." Her hand clenched, scrunching the fabric of her skirt, trembling with anger. "And it is because of her that I am no longer allowed to dance. It is because of her carelessness, that I am to suffer. My mother and father saw it unfit for me to participate in such _salacious conduct_."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"As am I." A triumphant grin traced Alice's lips, defiance in her expression. "But I am not so submissive. I refuse to have my dream snatched away before my very eyes. I will not allow it. You may think me selfish, Bella, but that I am not. If doing what makes me happy is immoral, then the world is indeed a cruel place. We all have our indiscretions, our secrets; a certain thing we must hide from the world, but it is just a matter of time until all is known."

Bella nodded, silently wishing she had the same confidence as her friend. "You are very brave, Alice."

"No, I am not brave at all. Bravery implies courage, and that I do not have. Not yet. I am merely building character." Her eyebrow rose inquisitively. "But I am sure that you know the process. It is brave to pursue the one dream which causes you the most pain. Are you not quite the masochist?"

"Alice, I—"

The slamming of a door interrupted the girl's conversation. Both jumped at the noise, staring at the intruder. He breathed heavily, both hands placed upon his knees, frame hunched over to catch his breath.

"You are late," Bella said, icily.

Edward leaned back against the door, pressing a finger to his lips. "Not so loud."

"Why is that?"

"If anyone is suspicious, I have been here the whole time."

"I will not lie for you, Mr. Cullen." She huffed angrily.

"Very well. It seems as though my misfortunes are a blessing in disguise since you will be keeping your mouth shut."

Alice groaned, resting her head against the desk. The past week had been non-stop bickering between the two. At first she had found it endearing, the way Edward gently tugged on Bella's hair, how she would rave continuously about his arrogance, and so on. "Give it a rest."

Edward blinked. "Oh, Alice, I did not realize that you were present."

"Unfortunately, it is my day to watch over you two. I would like to leave unscathed."

"You will, but I am not so sure about a certain someone."

He sauntered towards the piano, leaning over its base. "Ah, Miss Swan. You speak as though you wish to inflict pain upon me."

"I do not rest my hopes upon idle wishing, Mr. Cullen."

"Well are you not just a fierce lady to behold," he whispered. "Like Beethoven's Symphony No. 5." Edward bent his head to her level, smirking. "Obstinate, powerful, and _passionate._"

Shooting a fleeting look towards Alice, she sighed in relief as she noticed her friend did not hear a word of the conversation. Bella narrowed her eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Please, do mind your tongue, Mr. Cullen. If people were to hear, one might think you were courting me."

"And what if I am courting you, Miss Swan? Would that be so unfortunate for you?"

"When it comes from the mouth of London's most insidious flirt, I find it most unfortunate."

"You wound me, Miss Swan. I was under the impression that I was the _world's_ most insidious flirt!"

"Are you so blinded by your conceit to see the pessimism in my statements?" Bella nearly growled, her annoyance growing at Edward's lighthearted nature.

"I will have you know that my vision is perfect, I thank you."

"Oh, how I wish Saint Peter would call my name at this very moment," Alice moaned, gripping her head. "The both of you are getting absolutely no where!"

"Breath, Alice. The recital is far from now."

"Four months, Edward. Four months of putting aside your vanity and pride to collaborate with Bella. Now, either the two of you actually get something done, or the next time I will have to speak with Instructor Rochford himself."

"You wouldn't!"

"Continue to test my patience, Edward, and you will see the ramifications of your actions."

Like a spoilt child, he obliged with Alice's threats and sat on the piano bench. He cracked his knuckles in a boastful manner, running his hands down the piano keys to play glissando. With an intake of breath, Edward closed his eyes and began with a tune, carried out by his left hand. A medium tone elicited from the instrument, repetitious until the second verse, when the same melody carried out in a higher key. In unison, the medium and high keys clashed to produce a jubilant, upbeat harmony, one overpowering the other. The song then relapsed to its original medium tune, followed by a frenzy of sweet sounding notes, played with such urgency.

Bella could not help but gasp quietly to herself at Edward's passionate composition. She watched as he continued to play the array of keys with fervency, ranging from a high to low pitch. It was as if the melody had forced out of her memories from the past. Betrayal stung deep as she inwardly cursed the piano for doing her wrong, but every rose had its thorns. As he continued with playing, she reverted to that day only mere months ago.

Her heart beat erratically though sounded like the slow pounding of drums. She remembered how she stood alone behind the curtain waiting for the principal to call out her fate. The room had been submerged in darkness with the exception of the beautiful piano that remained untouched even after her cue had been announced thrice. For the first time in her life, Bella's physical and mental state coincided with one another and allowed her to run away. She ran from the stage. She ran from the auditorium. She ran from the voices that called her name: the principal's, her parents, _his_…She ran from it all.

And she did not turn back.

Almost immediately, Edward's song returned to a slower pace of the original, medium tone, but it held more power. The medium fell into a softer melody until it eventually faded away. He opened his eyes, smiling as he noticed Bella's were closed. "Have I bored you to slumber or death, Miss Swan?"

Blushing, she opened her eyes, a softness in her gaze. "Neither. I must commend you on your playing, Mr. Cullen. Absolutely breathtaking."

"Yes, I know that _I _am breathtaking, but what about my song?"

"Unbelievable!"

"Miss Swan, I thank you for your comments about my demeanor, but I would like some feedback if you do not mind." He smirked, flashing a small wink. "Careful. One might mistake your words for courting." Edward feigned deep thought, standing up as he held a finger to his chin. "Although that may debase my masculinity—"

"You are horrible! Every word I say you twist to your advantage!"

"Well—"

"Edward, I cannot believe how lazy you are!" Alice interrupted, her lips pursed with irritation. "You know very well that score you just played was useless for your practicing."

"I was merely showing Miss Swan that I was capable of a collaboration."

"Of course you are perfectly capable! You are, after all, in a music academy. Playing the same song you performed at our Christmas ball almost two winters ago! For shame, Edward. You are getting poor Bella nowhere fast." She sighed, a sympathetic expression upon her face. "I apologize, Bella, for Edward's idiocy."

"It is not _your fault_ that he is a fool. One cannot help what another is."

"It seems as though you will have to wait yet another day to slander my name." He pointed at the clock right as it chimed another hour's time. "We must vacate the room. Our session is over."

Glaring one last time in his direction, Alice marched out of the room, bidding a farewell to the both of them.

Bella frowned. "She is right, you know. We accomplished nothing. Her Majesty will be _most_ impressed."

"I am sure Her Majesty has many more fascinating stories to hear about than of our unproductive endeavors, Miss Swan."

"You may keep your snide remarks, Mr. Cullen. I am sure _everyone _has more interesting things to hear than of your foolish behavior."

"I applaud you, Miss Swan, for using my own insult against me."

"Well, I thought it would be better to take advantage of the moment," she said dryly. "Usually, the world is cursed with your half-witted, bold statements."

"Ah. How I adore that sharp tongue of yours," Edward mused, circling the piano, an intensive stare corresponding to his approach.

"Then I beseech you to listen when I say that we must get something done. I would rather not make a fool of myself nor will I let you take credit for an independent composition."

"I would never dream of you doing this alone, Miss Swan." Stopping his predatory movements, he sat upon the piano bench once more, taking her hand in his, placing a quick kiss upon it. "I am just _that_ chivalrous."

Without giving his words a single moment of her time, Bella ripped her hand away from his grasp. "As if you know the meaning of the act of chivalry. Now if you do not mind, I must be off."

"Until tonight, my beloved betrothed." Edward grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "Shall I bring the ring?"

"Alcohol at this time of the day, Mr. Cullen?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "Surely you have not forgotten what day it is."

"Why of course I know what day it is. Thursday."

"It is Friday."

"Really? Oh, well, that is a relief indeed. This means that I have already had my appointed lunch with Miss Ismay. How fortunate I am."

"I will not even comment on that," Bella said, gathering her papers, and rising from the piano bench. "As I said, today is Friday, as in, parental visitation."

Edward shrugged and rose from the bench. "Ah, I see. Well, I wish you a jolly ol' time." Before she could respond, he walked out of the room without another word.

"How very odd," she whispered to herself. Looking at the time, Bella sighed with sheer loathing. Her mother would arrive within the hour. It were days like these where she would rather endure the pain from the monthly curse.

Although in her own way, Mrs. Swan was a curse.

"Isabella, sit up straight. A lady never slouches."

Time quickly passed, and Bella found herself sitting in front of her mother for almost an hour. She straightened her posture, suppressing the imminent frown from appearing on her face. "Sorry, Mother."

"The Lord only knows what I am paying for," Renée said, idly drinking her tea. "Such a waste. What a pity_."_

"Pierce is a lovely academy, Mother. I have learned a great deal from my instructors."

"From what I have witnessed, I am not impressed."

_Are you ever? _Bella thought bitterly.

"It is almost your birthday."

"Yes, it is."

"And you are to be seventeen."

"Yes."

"Isabella. By your age, I had my debut and first season, for goodness sakes, I was betrothed by midsummer of my first season!" Her lips pursed into a thin line with disappointment.

"It is not as if I am past my prime, Mother."

"You may as well be. We should be so lucky that _it _was not announced. No one would have you then." Her eyes landed upon her daughter, worry reflecting upon her aging face. "Think of the scandal."

"Well, as you said, we were lucky," she stated bluntly.

"Dear, it is not uncommon to be nervous."

Bella rose abruptly from her chair, livid. "Mother, I have already asked for you not to bring _that_ up, and yet here you are in complete and utter disregard of my request!"

"Isabella, do not act like a petulant child." Renée said calmly. "I should take you from this infernal academy and back to Italy. Your defiance has not wavered in the least bit but has only grown. I am not pleased, not at all."

"Mother, I am staying at Pierce. Italy has nothing to offer me." Bella smiled, almost smirked, as she continued. "I am to do a collaboration with another pianist for Pierce's winter recital. Her Majesty will be attending."

Mildly impressed, Renée nodded her head. "Perhaps Pierce does have an incentive."

"Many," she mused, thinking of her extracurricular activities.

"Well, my dear, I must be off. I need to prepare the manor for your father's arrival."

"You will be residing in England?"

"But of course, Isabella. Your father has some business to attend to, and we have prior engagements."

"I see." They both stood, exiting the room.

"We will see you on your birthday. I have already asked for you to be excused for the night so you can come home for a proper celebration dinner."

"That really is not necessary—"

"It was not an offer, Isabella. The carriage will be waiting for you at six sharp, and you will be at home for your birthday dinner. Understood?"

"Yes."

"I will see you on your birthday. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mother." As she turned back to her room, Bella could not help the overwhelming grief that consumed her heart. Even though she may have ran from many things in the past, there were some things she could not hide from, no matter how unwanted those things were.

-:-

**Authoress Note: **I really _do _deserve the guillotine now, don't I? Eheheheh….sorry? What can I say? School was a major killer. I had half this chapter done since September but week after week I had either a quiz, an exam, or a major paper due. Let's just say that I will not force myself to endure such a course load again. At least I got you this new chapter! And I am working on the preceding one as we speak. Now, you may have some questions for me about certain parts of the chapter, and as always questions or welcomed, but if it spoils the plot, I cannot say.

But I do have one question. Why is it that I have so many hits for this story...so many visitors, and yet the reviews are lacking? Please do show some common decency and leave a review. They are my motivation. Perhaps if I have more feedback, I can update faster. Add fuel to the fire.

On another note, I would like to thank my fantastic beta, Leiahlaloa who hasn't given up on me yet. She is also planning her return, so you must check out her stories!

Much love!


	5. Chapter Five: Drawing Swords

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Five: Drawing Swords **

**-:-**

_"After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own."-- Oscar Wilde_

**September 13, 1890**

Despite the clouds in the horizon, the city had been in good graces with the heavens. Sunlight brightened not only the land but the spirits of those basking in it. Bella stopped and gazed out of the open window. She had been on her way to her private lessons with Instructor Rochford, and a terrible urge of sloth washed over her body as she realized this had been her last lesson of the day. That thought alone would have relieved her if it not had been for the fact that she would have to endure a night with her mother and father.

Rest assured, her mother would comment on her weary face. The past few nights proved that the number of billiards and underground pubs was never ending. They would be in bed by three in the morning and rise by eight for breakfast. And it was not only the lack of sleep which caused her fatigue. Each night was a restless sleep as she dreamed of her mother's words and the events in which they revolved.

Sighing, she walked towards the classroom and opened the door. "Evening, Instructor Rochford."

"Miss Swan. Please take a seat."

She made her way to the piano, setting her music folder on the podium, opening it to reveal the latest piece she had been working on with him. Ever since her lessons had began, Instructor Rochford had her play various pieces from Chopin to Beethoven. He had been skeptical when he discovered that she did not have proper schooling at an academy before. Needless to say, he was highly impressed by her musical talent.

"Shall we begin with _Für Elise_, Instructor Rochford?" She asked, organizing the scattered papers she had marked on.

"Actually, if you do not mind, I have a new piece for you to play." He pulled out a few sheets from his own folder and sat them at the podium.

Bella glanced at the notes, reading them in her head, imagining their sound as each note passed. She pressed down on the keys of the piano slowly, drawing out a repetition of low notes. As she became familiar with the music, she restarted her playing, the sounds of F minor spilling from the keys. The melody was new yet strange. It began with a repeated segment of low notes played with higher ones. Then the higher keys became more dominant, the humming of the low keys blending with the background, a light waterfall of chimes following.

She immersed herself within the music, making very few mistakes. This was not a typical melody, no, but an intense rhythm with a dash of mischief. Completing the piece, she stared at the keys, astounded at what she had just played. Turning to Instructor Rochford, Bella waited for his criticism.

"Bravo, Miss Swan. You did this piece justice." His eyes brightened with praise, his lips forming a smile. "Who did you say you studied under?"

"My grandfather taught me up until I was twelve, where I was then sent to study under the French style."

"I see. I am highly impressed, Miss Swan."

"I thank you, Instructor, but if you do not mind me asking, what is it I just played?"

"I am glad you asked. This past summer, I had an audience with Claude Debussy himself. It was there he shared with me his newest publication, the piano piece you played. It is called _Valse Romantique_."

"He is extremely accomplished. Mr. Debussy is awe inspiring."

"I see you are familiar with his work."

"Yes. I was fortunate enough to attend his concerts whilst in France. His work is absolutely lovely. The dedication and focus he puts into his compositions are magnificent. Not only is he a talented soloist, but he does so well with others."

"That is exactly what I have concluded, Miss Swan. You have a good eye for these sorts of matters. I cannot express my gratitude of your rejecting The Royal Academy of Music."

Her hands trembled in her lap. It was the simple words or phrases that could reduce one to tears and fright. A forlorn expression settled upon her pale face. "They had nothing to offer me. Not one thing."

"They?"

"The Academy," she said quickly, her head snapping up to meet Instructor Rochford's gaze.

"I see," he said, a proud smile on his face, taking pride in Pierce Academy. "How are you getting along with Mr. Cullen? I do know he is quite a bit to handle. If it were not for his exceptional skill, his behavior would not be tolerated."

"From what I have observed, the collaboration between Mr. Cullen and I will take some time."

"Pray, I hope it will not take too much time. The recital is only but a few short months away. Perhaps I should combine yours and Mr. Cullen's lessons for the time being. Only until the recital, of course."

"I believe that Mr. Cullen would perform more _exceptionally _under your watchful eye." The dry undertone to her statement was easily detected and appreciated. Instructor Rochford flashed a brief, private smile at her words and nodded.

"It is settled. I will inform Mr. Cullen of the changes. Now, if I am not mistaken, you have business to attend to. May I wish you a Happy Birthday, Miss Swan. You are dismissed."

She stood from the piano bench, gathered her papers, knelt for a small bow, and strode out of the classroom. She was not interested in the least bit that she was to turn yet another year older, thus boosting her availability. The dinner with her mother and father was only an added annoyance. Birthdays were not typically celebrated. Her parents were generally too busy with their aristocracy and own matters. The only fond memories she had were the ones with her grandparents.

Her grandmother would awaken her with a grand breakfast on the balcony of their seaside manor, when she resided in Italy. The fresh, morning breeze would ruffle her curls, the air thick with ocean and salt. Her grandfather would then surprise her with little heirlooms and sweet desserts. By the end of the day, the three of them would spend their time on the beach, watching the sunset. They did have strict expectations for Bella. She was taught proper etiquette, but they did let her run free to experience life.

Though that had all been in the past when she was but a mere child. Happy endings and fairytales were a figment of the imagination. Ever since her grandparents had passed away, Italy did not hold the same warmth. Their manor by the seaside was untouched; the furniture had been covered in sheets, curtains closed to deny the sunlight, balcony doors remaining closed forever. The lands still continued to be maintained, but it had been years since she had last been there.

And now that Bella had thought about it, the idea of her mother hosting a birthday dinner was absolutely preposterous. They had rarely gone out of their way to show any affection. Their interpretation of affection was to bestow an extravagant wardrobe of gowns, gloves, and hats. But she was not bought. It was the people whom were closest to a person who could truly hurt them.

They were blunt.

They were honest.

They did not have room for tears. All that mattered were a proper name, aristocracy, propriety, and chastity.

Indeed, there was no happily ever after.

Just, after.

The clock chimed at four in the afternoon, signaling that she had but one hour before the carriage would arrive to whisk her away. Groaning, she opened the door to her room, welcoming silence for the time being.

Though with her roommates being present, that had proved to be impossible. Before she could cross the threshold, a blur of black rushed up to her, screeching.

"Isabella Marie Swan! How _dare _you not tell us it was your birthday!"

"I did not see the significance of it." Alice huffed angrily; pouting as Bella walked passed her and lay upon her bed. She walked over to her friend, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bella opened one eye, shooting her a questioning stare. "And how might you know of this?"

"We were to relay a message for you. Your mother wanted to remind you of your birthday dinner tonight." Rosalie did not look up from her position at the vanity as she brushed out her blonde hair from tangles. "And what time will you be back?"

"Why?" Bella asked wearily, dreading the inevitable answer that would follow.

"Because we are going to celebrate, that is why."

"But—"

Rosalie yawned, mentally counting the strokes as she brushed. "Do not bother with your pathetic attempt of an argument. We already know that you will acquiesce to our requests. I can see the exhaust on your face."

Rolling her eyes, Bella turned her head to the side, and arose from the bed. Alice patted her hand gently and smiled broadly. "Please, try to be somewhat happy."

"Fine, fine. Now if you excuse me, I have the horrible task of making myself presentable for my parents."

"Ah. I remember you saying the conversation with your mother did not go over so well." Alice rose from the bed as well, shooting Rosalie an impish smile.

"Perfect. I know _exactly _what you are thinking."

"Now, I am afraid."

"Do not be frightened, Bella." The blonde scurried to her wardrobe, pulled a stunning blue gown, and beckoned for Bella to follow her behind the dressing screen. Minutes passed and Bella found herself staring at the reflection. The gown was a beautiful shade of blue complimenting her pale features. A blush settled upon her cheeks as her eyes transfixed at one very obvious feature about the dress.

"I simply cannot wear this."

"This is far too much."

"Nonsense." Rosalie waved the matching fan of the gown, scoffing. "You are just about my size, and it has become strangely tight on me."

"Perhaps it is all those sweets," Alice quipped, a cheeky grin splayed on her lips. "Ravenous for marmalade and chocolates."

"I do not each _that _much—"

"I did not mean me wearing the gown," Bella interrupted, rubbing her temples as she stared at her reflection. "I mean to say that this gown is not _exactly _modest."

"And it is not _exactly _immodest. It will make for an interesting night. Do you not want to vex your mother?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then it is done. Come now, Bella. You may as well make the dinner an amusing one. They would not dare pull you away from Pierce now that it is know that Her Majesty will be attending the winter recital!"

Defeated, Bella stared at herself once more and took the offered fan from Rosalie. "By the time this recital is over, I will end up in a convent thanks to the lot of you."

"Being sent to Italy does not seem like a punishment. From what I heard of that Casanova fellow and his past endeavors, Italy sounds like such scandalous fun!" Rosalie laughed charmingly, a wicked grin on her face. "Darling, by the end of the winter recital, no convent will _want _you."

Three sharp knocks came to the doors, followed by the mistress of the dormitory. Bella said her goodbyes to the girls and followed the mistress to the front gates. As she walked towards the carriage, she pulled her white, mink cape tighter, protecting herself form the inevitable chill. The impending, bitter chill always conquered her when visiting her parents.

The coachman offered his hand, and Bella stepped inside the carriage. She watched the school grounds as the horses slapped against the cobblestone. The beautiful building in which she found solace yet imprisonment, faded into the distance.

Her breathing became ragged as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. The last time she had seen her father was months ago. His face was broken into blatant disbelieve. His eyes were filled with undeniable betrayal. They bored deep into her very soul. Judging, ashamed eyes. She had always been his bane of existence. It was her blame alone that she was not the son he had wanted. That was twice now that she took the opportunity from him.

Though his distaste for her did not show. He doted on her, showed affection when necessary. Bought her pretty porcelain dolls in the eyes of company. Spoiled her with proper items to please her grandparents when she was a child. Despite his good gestures and honorable actions, his intentions were less than loving.

She would always be his greatest failure. He would always be her greatest enemy. She was defiant much like himself. One in the same. He condemned her to a life that was not her own to choose. He was willing to trade her off to the highest bidder, the one man she wished to never see again.

But Bella found the audacity to wound him deeply. She struck him in his pride when she ran from that place. The swords were drawn. He raised his blade first. She defended. It was no fault of hers that she became the victor.

"Miss, we have arrived."

She blinked in amazement. It was as if the ride had taken only a few moments. She exited the carriage soundlessly, her eyes roaming the grounds freely. A snort of distaste followed her observations. Her mother always did have expensive taste when it came to manors. Reluctantly, she walked through the doorway to be greeted by her mother.

"Isabella, my darling daughter!" Renée exclaimed, all too loudly.

Bella raised an eyebrow at her mother's sickeningly sweet tone. "Mother."

"Take off your cape, dear. Dinner will begin shortly. We were afraid you might not have come."

"I very well remember my own birthday. Not to mention your messages." She shrugged off her cape, but smirked as a sharp gasp reached her ears. "Something the matter, Mother?"

Renée smiled tightly, snatching her daughter's wrist. "What do you think you are wearing?!"

"A gown, Mother."

"Do not play coy with me, Isabella. The cut of your gown is hardly appropriate. It is almost daring!"

Bella rolled her eyes at her mother's words and walked into the dining room. "Be calm, Mother. It is not as if—" But her speech failed her as a servant announced her presence. The table was joined by two other guests. She thought she would never have the displeasure of seeing them again.

"Isabella." Her father's lips pressed against her forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Hello, Father," she whispered, distressed by their presence.

He wore the smirk she had only moments ago. "I am sure you remember our guests."

"Yes. How do you do, Sir and Lady Mackenzie?"

"Very well, thank you."

Renée followed her daughter, hiding her embarrassment. "Sit, my love."

She sat, almost afraid she would lose her balance. Her heart beat quickened, almost painfully, though eased when she noticed no other place setting had been set.

"I propose a toast." Sir Mackenzie held up his glass. "To Miss Swan's health. May you live a long, fruitful life." They each raised their glasses and drank to his words. "And how is your health, Miss Swan?"

"Quite fine, I thank you."

"You should hope not to catch an illness. Gowns these days are _lacking_." He took another sip of wine, smiling mirthlessly. "And how are you liking your stay at Pierce?"

"I could not ask for a _better _Academy, Sir Mackenzie." Her eyes narrowed at his previous statement. Biting her lips to refrain her fury, she spoke in a softer tone. "And how is your Academy fairing?"

"Excellently."

"Yes!" Renée gushed, her voice filled with admiration. "I am sure you will be Headmaster for years to come. Such an exceptional composer! Top of the line students."

"Ah. All but one has eluded me," he sniffed, tilting a glass towards Bella.

"Alexander has excelled proficiently." Lady Mackenzie's eyes brightened with haughtiness, smugness apparent in her speech.

"Oh, Emily, you must send my love to Alexander. How I dote on your boy."

"Pierce has many talented students as well," Bella said quickly, making an attempt to conceal her discomfort.

"The Cullen children attend there, if I am not mistaken. Had I been Headmaster at the time, I would have snatched them before Charleston could do so." Sir Mackenzie said spitefully. "The singer, Miss Brandon I believe, is also there."

"Oh, she is engaged to one of the Cullen boys. Such a pretty, fortunate girl." Emily gave a knowing look to Renée and feigned sympathy. "Her poor aunt. That daughter of hers caused _quite _then scandal whilst schooling in Russia."

"Miss Alice Brandon is a perfectly congenial lady. She has the utmost respect for herself and others," Bella said quickly, placing a napkin on her lap. "And she is the most accomplished singer I have ever heard. She is better than those ladies in the opera houses!"

"Always finding the good in people," Emily crooned. "I am sure she is, dear Isabella, but you may want to stay away from such company. Your reputation could be tainted by affiliation."

Renée smiled brightly at Emily, animated at her attitude. "Thank you for the warning, Emily. You always had Isabella's well being in your thoughts."

"How could I not? She is like a daughter of mine. _Almost_."

Bella's stare fixated at her plate and remained quiet for the remainder of the night. The conversation droned in her ears. She nodded and smiled politely when necessary, but she was not fully aware of her surroundings until she bid her family and guests farewell.

The ride back to the Academy left her to dwell in her thoughts. It was not exactly how she wanted to spend that day. Exhausted, she exited the carriage when it arrived at Pierce and made her way to her dormitory. Upon arrival to her door, Bella noticed the dim light peeking from the room. With grim dissatisfaction, she entered the room only to be shocked.

"Happy Birthday!"

Not only were the girls present, but Edward was there as well. Alice skipped towards Bella and held out her hand. "We have decided against an outing tonight. Instead, we will be taking you elsewhere."

"Shall I change?"

"I think your current outfit is rather _flattering_."

Bella shot a glare at Edward, clutching the mink cape tighter around her body. "Could you be civil for once?"

"I have no idea what _you_ were talking about." He shrugged his shoulders, getting up from her bed. "I was speaking of the color. It is quite lovely."

Ignoring his comment, Bella turned to Rosalie. "Where are Emmett and Jasper?"

"They are preparing for our outing. Now, let us leave before Instructor Shields makes her round."

Edward led the ladies through the corridors, stopping when required. In a few short minutes, they made their way out of the school grounds, cutting through the forests. Adrenaline was pumping, and all of them let loose with their restraints. All four sprinted deeper into the woods until they had made it to a clearing.

Emmett and Jasper stood around a fire holding flasks of various types of gin and other liquor. "Happy Birthday, Bella!"

"Thank you." She laughed for the first time that night as she watched the girls twirl and dance by the fire. Accepting a flask from Emmett, she took a sip and coughed. "What is this?"

"It is the last of my brandy. You are so much as lucky that it is your birthday." Emmett grinned, wrapped his arm around Rosalie, and offered her his cigarette.

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Not tonight. I prefer to remain sober. My lessons have been suffering."

"I will take that." Jasper snatched the cigarette from Emmett's hands and put it to his lips. "Ah, sweet breath."

They all sat around the fire, enjoying one another's company, drinking the various gins, whiskey, and rum. The night had improved Bella's mood greatly as she forgot what had occurred and focused on the present. She shared dances with everyone, willing to do so with Edward too. Time drew on until the fire began to slowly burn out.

"To end the night, we shall give presents to our dearest friend," Alice chimed, prancing to Bella's side. She held out a small box and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Do not be stubborn. It is a gift from all of us. Thankfully we managed to escape tonight without notice."

She opened the box cautiously, her eyes widening at the sight. Her hands lifted a gleaming, shining bracelet with six charms dangling from it. "I cannot express my gratitude. Thank you. I know I have said this numerous times, but I really mean it."

"And we know you do, Bella." Each one smiled at her and proceeded to explain who gave what. There was a ballet slipper, a violin, a viola, a cello, a piano, and a pair of wings. Before they could finish, Emmett pulled out his pocket watch and cursed. "We must go, quickly, if we want a decent night's sleep. Be sure to drink plenty of water. We must be fresh for the dawn."

Sad to see the merriment end, they cleaned up their mess and put out the fire completely. Each walked with their respective partner, leaving Edward and Bella behind. As the others moved further ahead, Edward tugged playfully at Bella's hair. "I hope you enjoyed your birthday."

"It was horrid in the beginning, but it did indeed turn out better than I thought it would have. Honestly, I have not had a more pleasurable birthday since my childhood."

"Well I am glad you found amusement." The two walked silently out of the woods, but before they could make it to the grounds, Bella stopped him.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Please, call me Edward."

"I cannot find myself to do so as of yet." She stared at the bracelet on her wrist, playing with the charms. "I presume the piano is from you, but what of the wings?"

He chuckle. "Yes, the piano was from me, a semblance of myself. Since you and I both play the piano, I suppose for just this once I could share." He stopped, looked into her eyes, his stare softening. "The wings are your own, though. You see, despite how much you wish to hide your agony, I know there is something that haunts you."

"Do not be silly—"

"I hear it in your playing, and I see it when others play. The piano draws a painful experience for you." He held his hand up, shaking his head. "You do not have to say or tell me what is wrong. That is of your own account, and I am not one to pry. I only mean to explain the meaning of the wings. I bought you this specific charm because you are still restrained by something or someone that holds you back. I only hope that one day you may be able to live your life freely."

Bella could not help but sob. Her eyes flooded with inevitable tears. All day she had experienced an array of emotions, and now she could not help but let the tears fall. "Do not be frightened, Mr. Cullen. I appreciate your gesture. It is very kind of you."

Edward ran his thumbs from beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears. "One day you will find your peace, Miss Swan. Do not worry about that."

-:-

The following morning welcomed each one of them with a headache. The only one to seem cheery that morning was Rosalie, but her appetite was just as voracious as the others. Once satiated, they spoke happily of the shortened classes due to the weekend.

"Miss Swan, you have a package from your father."

Bella looked up, took the package from the Instructor, and thank her. She stared at the letter briefly and froze. She could have sworn her heart had stopped.

"Bella?" Alice raised an eyebrow, curious and concerned. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," she rasped, folding the letter. Shakily she opened the box and mentally cursed. A single blue ribbon lay inside the cushioned box with a small piece of parchment.

_My dearest Isabella,_

_Do you remember the summer before you turned sixteen? Surely you do, for I remember it clearly. Here is a memorabilia from that night. Perhaps we can speak some time._

_A._

She indeed did remember that night. It was one night she regretted deeply. Glaring at her father's letter, she crushed it and the other piece of parchment within her hands.

_Touché, Father. _She thought, furious by his actions.

The swords had been drawn once more.

-:-

**Authoress Note: **Updating this morning, I left a rant. Some people did not see it as being "nice", so I am here to change my choice of words. With such a big load of college work, I cannot update as much as I would like to. I have, however, thought of updating at least once a month. You do not have to review. I know that. I apologize if some of you were offended. Bad day. I am sure you can all understand the pain of going through something so unbearably horrid. I apologize for "drawing a sword" on you all.

On another note, to those of you who DO REVIEW, let me express my gratitude. It is _your _comments that have helped me write. Here is a nice, long-ish chapter. I hope it is to your liking. As a gift, I leave you a little something at the end of this all, snippets if you may, that you will be seeing soon.

And let me express my love and thanks to my lovely beta Leiahlaloa, the epitome of what it is like to be dazzled.

**Fun Facts**

_Valse Romantique _was indeed composed in the year 1890

Sir Alexander Mackenzie was beginning his third year as principal of The Royal Academy of Music. Whether he had a son (Alexander jr.) or wife (Emily) is totally up in the cards. He too was a composer.

_Casanova _was always a favorite of mine to read and write about. I find him fascinating.

**Preview of the next chapter**

_She laughed, smiling as Alice and Rosalie waved at her from their dancing and merriment. "And what of you, Mr. Cullen? You seem to be indulging quite a bit yourself. Did your parents spring a surprise visit upon you?"_

_"Actually, I do not participate in days such as these." Edward took a drink of water, staring into the crowd, the room hazed with smoke. His face masked over with a brief moment of grief before he spoke again. "My mother passed away two years ago."_

Much love.


	6. Chapter Six: Never Again

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Six: Never Again **

-:-

"_Some people come into our lives, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never the same."—__Franz Schubert_

**September 20, 1890**

His brows knitted together in fierce determination as he stared hard at the music sheet before him. Various sheets of scribbled papers littered the piano bench, and the floor around him. It had been a week since his last lesson with Instructor Rochford, and today he wanted to see the progress that was made. Needless to say, there was not much improvement. It was as if a permanent wall had implanted within Edward's brain to block him from creating a new piano piece.

The notes did not sound right. As a solo piano player, he was not accustomed to collaborations. This was not him. Not once in his life had he worked on a piece with another person. That thought was almost hysterical, to work with another. Had he been in a better mood, the predicament would have been laughable. He was Edward Anthony Cullen for God sakes. He would be damned if he could not create a collaborating piece by himself, despite that thought being an oxymoron.

Biting the tip of his fountain pen, he began playing the written lines. The music poured from the piano in a fast rhythm, fluid and precise. A strong fortissimo followed the repetition and intertwined with the set. Before reaching the next set of notes, he slammed his fists angrily against the keys.

"Damn it all to hell!"

A soft knock came to the door as Bella walked in with an amused expression. "And pray, what did the pianoforte do to receive such ill-treatment, Mr. Cullen?"

"It is not meeting my needs, Miss Swan."

"How very spoiled you must be to feel such an entitlement from inanimate objects." Smiling demurely, she stepped fully into the room, standing a respectable distance away from Edward. Her gaze fell upon the vast sea of parchment that crumbled beneath her steps. Bending down, she gathered a few pieces, reading what she could see through the cryptic writing. "This is quite good."

Edward snorted at her remark, striking out the lines on his current piece of parchment. "I have arrived nowhere, swiftly. It does not sound right. None of them do. This is all rubbish."

"I hardly believe that," Bella murmured from under her breath. She bent down once more, but this time to sit, as she began to read more and more of the parchment pieces. Reaching behind her, she pulled a pen from her hair, and began circling random pieces from the various sheets.

"I did not take you as a magician, Miss Swan," he said, referring to her pen.

"Your sight must be weak, Mr. Cullen. I am no magician. I always keep a pen tucked away into the bun of my hair. One does not know when it may come in handy."

"Very clever. That is true. I often find myself without a pen in dire situations. Signing a contract… composing a new set for a musical piece…writing letters of love and my undying lust—"

"Mr. Cullen!"

Laughing, Edward threw his head back and rose from the piano bench as he saw Bella's head snap up, her cheeks flushed. "Pardon me! I wanted to see whether or not you were actually paying any mind to me."

"Sadly, at this moment, I was listening to you, proving that I should no longer pay you mind." Her eyes fell upon the paper once more, scratching and scribbling away at the musical notes.

Curious, Edward made his way from the piano to where Bella was sitting, sprawling his body upon the floor. He read her notes in the margins, imagining the sound as notes flowed through his mind. "Interesting," he hummed. "I did not think to begin this piece mezzo piano."

"Nor I, but, what would you think of performing a piece with a crescendo to a series of repetitions?"

With his pen in hand, Edward turned a piece of the parchment over and began jotting down a few notes of their discussion. "If I am not mistaken," he muttered, finishing up his line and pushing the paper towards Bella. "Is this what you had in mind?"

"It is perfect!"

"Your surprise me, Miss Swan. First you partake in conduct far from appropriate, and now you cross the musical lines of etiquette. Impressive."

"All great composers stray from the path. If Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven saw breaking rules to be fit, then I shall follow in their footsteps."

"I find it amusing how you justify our actions by using our past, great composers as an example."

"Wondrous characteristics are born from our flaws," Bella whispered, slowly rising from the sea of parchment. "I—"

The door closed abruptly revealing Instructor Rochford out of breath. "I apologize for being late."

"Why, Instructor Rochford, how imprudent of you," Edward mocked, rising from the floor as well. He walked over to the piano, music sheet in hand, and sat upon the bench.

Ignoring his cheek, Instructor Rochford paid little attention to him and focused on Bella. "How have you been fairing, Miss Swan? Has any progress been made?"

"Actually, Instructor, Mr. Cullen and I have made excellent progress. Just now, we were discussing the next movement to what we have collaborated thus far."

"And are you confident in what you have composed?"

Before Bella could respond, the melodious keys from the piano answered for her. Edward began playing the medium tone in repetitions, followed by the diminuendo of high notes, the reiteration still playing in the background. Edward ended his playing, a cocky smirk on his lips.

"Very…unusual," Instructor Rochford murmured, putting a finger to his lips. "It is certainly something I have yet to hear before. By performing this as your recital piece, you are at risk. Highly esteemed musical academy representatives will be attending the recital. Those who are chosen to attend said academies will have the opportunity to study under Tchaikovsky, Debussy, Verdi, and other great composers."

"As if that pertains to me."

"Are you forgetting about Miss Swan, Mr. Cullen? It is not a trait of your family to be selfish and in blatant disregard of others."

His breathing hitched for only a moment, catching Bella's attention. She curiously watched as his body stiffened as if going into shock. Edward's eyes went hollow as the Instructor's remarks. "Of course," he said tightly. "I would not dream to ruin this for Miss Swan, but I imagine she is not interested in the least bit for the incentives that come with producing an _acceptable _piece."

"Miss Swan?"

Bella toyed with the charm bracelet, her thumb caressing the wings absentmindedly. "Instructor, I do not seem to sound ungrateful or rude, but I do not play for the purpose to reap benefits for stature."

"I see. Although I respect your right to perform without obligation, I ask for the both of you to reconsider your choice of style. You are dismissed, and I shall see you during our next lesson." With that, he walked out of the room, leaving the door open for Bella and Edward to follow.

The two strode out of the classroom quietly, walking towards their respected dormitories, gazing in opposite directions. Dim rays poured through the windows as the sun began to set on the horizon. Unable to withstand the silence any longer, Edward turned and began to speak, "Shall I see you tonight?"

"Pardon?"

"Jasper has found yet another club to satiate our endeavors." He smiled handsomely, pulling out the diamond ring. "Yet another night with you as my fiancée. If only just once you were my wife."

She blushed crimson, walking faster to her dormitory door. "I think tonight you will be very lonely, Mr. Cullen. I will not be joining in tonight's merriment."

"Why is that?" He inquired, quickly blocking the entrance to her room. Had she lifted her gaze to meet his just seconds before, Bella would have seen the hurt expression forming on his face.

"I—Mr. Cullen, you must leave before someone sees you here!"

"Ah, but I am a man of virtue. I would not dare to have one impure thought!" Edward lifted her chin with his finger, his deep, emerald eyes smoldering. He smirked, watching her gasp at his forward antics. The blush from before had not quite dissipated much to his satisfaction. "Now, do not stray from the subject, and please tell me why you will not be joining us tonight."

"I thought you said that you were not one to pry," she squeaked.

"Miss Swan," he warned.

Bella turned from side to side, looking to see if the hallways were empty. She boldly moved forward, her face mere inches away from his, body within a whisper of breath. Her wide, cinnamon eyes stared into his, matching the fiery intensity, as she placed her hands on both sides of the door. "Mr. Cullen," Bella whispered, reaching on her tiptoes in an attempt to match his height, "I…"

"…you…"

Quickly, she turned the knob to the door, pushing it open, allowing Edward to fall into the room flat upon his back. "I do not have to explain myself to you," she giggled, offering him a hand to sit up.

Edward frowned as she continued to laugh, taking her hand within his, but yanked her lithe body on top of him. Her hands pressed against his chest, but now it was his turn to chuckle at the expression on her face.

"Oh. My. Goodness!" Alice and Rosalie stood at the threshold of the door, mouths agape, gawking at the two as they lay on the floor.

Bella quickly moved away from Edward. She rose from the floor, dusting off her dress. "This is not what it seems—"

"Your personal matters with Edward are no business of ours," Rosalie said, amused at the situation. "The flush upon your cheeks speaks more than enough of your antics."

"If only you had not interrupted us." Edward got up from the floor, grinning at Bella. "Until tonight, Fairest," he said, walking out of the room.

"Perhaps you may see an illusion of me through your drunken stupor!" she retorted.

-:-

The diamond on her ring winked with betrayal. She sipped her drink slowly, enjoying the added preserves. "Do not start with me," Bella muttered at the glinting ring.

"Talking to inanimate objects is the first sign of having too much," Edward laughed, taking a seat next to her. "And I thought you were not going to appear tonight, _love_."

"As if I ever had a choice."

"Miss Swan, you should know that you always have a choice. It is just the question of how strong your will is."

"Having Rosalie and Alice literally _forcing _me out of the room is a trying task to avoid."

"Yes, Rosalie does have quite a brute strength for a lady." Edward waved his hand, signaling another round of drinks. "I suppose you really are in need of one more."

"If only liquor could relieve my aches for more than a moment. My mother and father have decided that I am to attend church with them tomorrow."

"Well if you continue with your drinking, you will be too ill to even rise for church."

"And what of you, Mr. Cullen? You seem to be indulging quite a bit yourself. Are your mother and father going to spring a surprise visit upon you?"

"Actually, I do not participate in days such as family visitation." Edward took a drink of water, staring into the crowd, the room hazed with smoke. His face masked over with a brief moment of grief before he spoke again. "My mother passed away two years ago."

"O—oh. I am terribly sorry…"

"Why? You did not kill her, did you?" He joked, saddened. "No. She had a bad case of pneumonia. You see, my father loved my mother with all his life. When he discovered that my mother was ill, he did everything it took to care for her, even if it meant to liquidate all of our assets. But no matter how hard he tried, she did not regain her health."

He paused for a moment, staring at the contents of his glass. "After she passed, my father became disheartened. He blamed himself for not being able to revive her. He soon followed her after two months, but I disagree. I believe he died the very moment my mother drew her last breath."

"My condolences," she whispered.

"Thank you, but I am quite alright." Edward took a deep breath, leaning back against the seat. "Although I may have lost my mother and father, I still have another set. Rosalie and Jasper's parents, my aunt and uncle, have always been a secondary family to me."

"Yes, I may announce him as cousin, but he is in fact my younger brother!" Jasper shouted over the carousing music, taking a seat next to Edward, mussing his bronze hair.

"To the baby of the family!"

"Here, here!" Emmett yelled, downing a glass of scotch.

"You lot will find anything to drink to."

"Even if it _is _at your expense."

"Alright, men, enough of this." Pulling out a deck of cards, Jasper slammed them on the table, fanning them out. "How about spreading the broads?"

"And what about us ladies?" Alice asked, a high shrill following.

Edward rolled his sleeves to his forearm, lighting the cigarette that lay behind his ear, and took a long drag. "That is quite simple, Alice. Ladies do not gamble."

"Mr. Cullen, are you insinuating that gambling is purely a man's sport?"

"It was not an insinuation."

Refusing to move from the table, Bella threw a long, hard glare at Edward, and signaled for Jasper to deal her in. "And what of you, Rosalie? Alice?"

"I'm in," the brunette chimed, taking a seat next to Jasper.

"I will pass." Rosalie leaned her head against Emmett's shoulder, her eyes closing in the process.

Jasper nodded, threw cards around the table, and proceeded to explain the game. "The name of the game is _Poker_."

"We all know of the game, Jasper." Emmett said dully. "How much shall we wager?"

"A pound?"

Edward snorted, nodding his head towards the girls. "You may as well pass me your coins, ladies. Save yourself the humiliation."

"You have grown quite a complex over the years."

"And do I not deserve the rightful bragging?"

"Why so arrogant, Mr. Cullen?" Bella asked, placing a pound upon the table.

Alice rolled her eyes, scoffing at his statement. "Edward is seemingly gifted when it comes to gambling—"

"It is not a gift, but a talent."

"—and he rarely loses," she continued, ignoring Edward's interruption.

Jasper began throwing cards around the table, placing his wager as well. He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and took a puff. Tapping off the ashes, he nodded his head to the table after taking a peek at their cards, and placed a few more coins upon the table. "I am in." Each added more coins to the pile, and were handed yet another card. "Bah! I am done," he mumbled.

"And I as well," Emmett glumly stated.

Alice followed the suit, unable to express her frustration as she threw her cards upon the table.

Edward's gaze fell upon Bella's, a haughty smile forming on his lips. The remaining two began staring each other down, attempting to break the other, but was done so to no avail. His hand moved closer to the pool of winnings as he began to ask, "Miss Swan? Has bad luck fallen upon you as well?"

"Not in the least bit, Mr. Cullen, actually I raise you a pound," Bella replied. Her face was stoic, giving away nothing of her hand, and Edward found himself unable to read the impassive girl.

"Love, we could go on all night calling each of our bluffs, but I would feel absolutely horrid for winning all of your money."

"Yet you respond to my wagers without the remorse you so _dearly _profess." Placing another wager upon the table, she stared at him, her voice nonchalant. "Show."

"Well, Miss Swan, I attempted to dissuade you. I have warned you of my highly skilled techniques, but you have failed to listen. As chivalrous as I am, a lesson must be learned." He placed his cards upon the table and began to pick at the coins. "Flush."

Groans emitted from around the table as Edward chuckled. Emmett whistled lowly, shaking his head. "Nice hand, my friend."

Soundlessly, Bella began to throw her cards upon the table, one-by-one, earning a dropped jaw from each of the table's occupants.

"Four of a kind," Jasper whispered, dumbstruck, "She won."

"You never stood a chance, Edward."

"Not so arrogant now I suppose."

"You cheated."

Bella's face faulted at Edward's statement, pursed her lips in anger, and rolled her eyes. "I never did take you as a foul sport."

"I am not being a foul sport. That hand is impossible. You simply cheated."

"Surely, Mr. Cullen, you are not so naïve to believe a person's sex defines his or hers skill and talent." Bella stood from the table and gathered her winnings. She cocked an eyebrow and took the deck of cards, fanning them across the table, face cards up. Her eyes shot towards his facets of emerald as she placed her hand next to the deck. "All cards are present and accounted for. There are not any duplicates. Your very cousin is the one to deal out our hands. Would you doubt your own blood?"

"Yes, Edward, are you doubting my honesty?" the blond asked his cousin.

"Of course not."

"Then it is settled. Bella is the victor with no means of cheating." Jasper gathered his cards and grinned wryly. "While we are basking in your winning, how ever did you learn to play so exceptionally?"

Bella smiled faintly, reminiscing over one of the few fond memories she had. "I spent this past summer in the states with my cousins from New Orleans. My cousins and I would lose ourselves in the bustling streets, away from our governess, and watch the men play poker in saloons and local shops. One night, however, my uncle returned home boasting of his winnings in a hand of poker. While we inquired how, he began to explain the style and concepts behind the game.

He told us that it was all about reading faces. If you can read a face, you can win every game or save yourself from the embarrassment of making a complete arse out of yourself." With one last drink of Edward's scotch, Bella winked playfully. "Perhaps you might invest in a trip to New Orleans."

"Only if I could whisk you away with me, Miss Swan."

Rosalie snorted at her cousin's advances. "Edward, you should take her uncle's advice and save yourself from making a complete arse of yourself—oh, sorry—even _more _of an arse out of yourself."

"I think Rosie needs some sleep," Emmett teased, placing a chaste kiss on her temple. "Shall we go?"

All concurred and arose from the table, paying their dues, and stumbled outside. They walked into the carriage and rode away into the night, each groaning at their late night antics. The dawn would prove to be merciless.

-:-

_She hummed a song, swaying her lithe body to the music, gazing at the fireflies glowing at the river's bend. Summer had finally graced France. The sky was clear on the outskirts of Paris, a full moon bestowing light upon the land. Stars scattered across the midnight sky, twinkling and enticing those who were blessed to observe the phenomenon. Her stockings and shoes were long forgotten, casually tossed across the yard. She escaped from the party that was held just a short distance away, unable to dance with yet another aristocrat's son or converse with their vapid daughters._

_Drawing the skirts of her gown up, she slowly dipped her feet into the water, shivering slightly at the contact. Her skin was almost as luminescent as the moonlight that reflected upon the river. She sat on the bank, allowing both legs to be submerged, caring not for the grass stains that may form on her gown. Welcoming the warm, summer wind, she slowly began to undo the confinements in her hair. Her mother would scold her later for her lack of manners. She deeply regretted the request she made for her parents to join her in France while on break from her schooling. _

_Careful not to mar the ribbon in her hair, she took the last pin out, allowing the curls to cascade down her back. Smiling, she stared back at the sky, breathing in the sweet scent of lilies and roses. As she shook her hair, the wind picked up, taking the single blue ribbon of hers to dance in the air. She cursed, whipping her body up in a quick motion, her skirts getting drenched in the process. _

_The ribbon tickled her finger tips, but she could not reach it as it escaped her once more. Another hand shot in the air, wrapping the silk in its grasp, causing her to stop the pursuit. His brown hair tousled slightly with the wind, hints of golden dominant in the light. Cobalt eyes stared at her curiously, eyebrows quirked, an unreadable smile on his face._

"_Is this yours?" he asked, holding the ribbon out to her._

"_Yes."_

"_May I ask why you were chasing in such haste for a ribbon?" He eyed her up and down. "It seems as though you are not vain when it comes to appearance."_

_She stared at her gown, blushing at the grass and dirt stains at her gowns hem. "O—oh, well, that is not some simple ribbon. I care not for its expense, but it is very valuable to me. You see, my grandmamma gifted me a set of ribbons for my birthday, and the one you hold is one of them. I cherish anything my grandparents gave to me."_

"_Cute," he stated nonchalantly. "Pray, what are you doing out here alone?"_

_She answered him, and continued to do so after every question he asked. Enraptured by the sound of his voice, she succumbed to his demands of who, what, where, when, why, and anything else he could possibly think of. He captivated her with his opinions, slowly changing her point of view on certain thoughts and ideas. _

"_This ribbon is quite lovely."_

_Another blush warmed her cheeks. She had yet to start her season for courting and was not use to such forward manners from the opposite sex. "T—thank you," batting her eyelashes, she smiled. "You may keep it…if you would like."_

"_Like a keepsake of our first encounter?"_

"_I suppose."_

_Just as he instilled his possession upon her, he wrapped the ribbon around his finger. "What is your name?"_

_Surprised that they had not discussed names sooner, she replied. "Isabella Swan."_

"_Nice to make your acquaintance," he smiled deviously, a slight glint of amusement in his eyes. "Alexander Mackenzie."_

"Isabella, you wake up this instant!" A sharp pinch caused her bleary eyes to open. Her book of hymns lay open in her lap, nestled in the gossamer and lace of her church gown. Renée smiled tightly at her daughter, her hand still placed on the arm she pinched. "You embarrass me."

"Sorry, mother."

Bella stared at her book with a bleak expression. It was unnerving how one simple item could bring upon a flood of unwanted memories. It took one twist of fate, one single action, to let a whole mess unfurl. One smile. One glance. One lie. If only she went to New Orleans sooner. Perhaps then she would have been able to read his deceitful face.

The services ended with a final word from the priest, dismissing them for the morning. Bella followed her mother and father into the carriage, riding away to their home. Each moment passed with a blur, and before she knew it, Bella sat in front of a plate of food, idly sipping her orange juice.

"Isabella. We have not heard from you since your birthday."

"I have been busy, father."

"Here I thought you might be ignoring your dear mother and father."

"Such thought has not crossed my mind."

"And did you receive my letter and the parcel?"

She coughed into her drink, pardoning herself, and wiped her face. "Yes, of course."

"Are you not going to respond to Alexander's present?"

"I think not. Perhaps you could express my g_ratitude _for returning something that was once lost."

"So, it was not a present? Not jewelry or a pretty sonnet?" Renée asked as a deep frown on her face appeared. She wiped daintily at her mouth and placed the napkin upon the table, perturbed.

Bella shook her head, replying bluntly, "No."

Her father shot her a disdainful look, rising from the table, signaling for Renée to follow. "I think Isabella should take her leave and return to Pierce. Renée, excuse us as I speak to Isabella alone." Renée gave a curt nod and strolled out of the private dining room.

"You wanted to speak to me privately, father?"

"Do not toy with me, girl. I tire of your petty and girlish games."

"I do not see what I have done wrong, _father_," Bella spat, matching his seething tone.

His eyes flared with anger as he marched around the table. "That defiance of yours appalls me. You shame me, Isabella. You act not at all like a young lady, but girl who lacks all forms of grace and propriety. I was lucky to bear you when you were a little child."

"You did _no_ such thing." Bella rose from her seat, unable to keep her anger in check. She knew the game her father played. She knew it very well. He would spit his venomous insults, forging guilt upon her, but she learned long ago to build a defense. Words that once reduced her to tears no longer affected her. "Grandfather and grandmother raised me on their own accordance. How they raised you, a spawn of Satan, is unfathomable!"

"Watch your tongue, girl," Charlie hissed, glaring at his daughter. They stood face to face, glaring at one another, both faces flushed with hatred. "I curse the day you were brought in this world, Isabella. Why I was not blessed with a son instead of a retched girl is inconceivable."

"You can only blame yourself for that, _father_. Even whilst you were with your whores and mistresses, you could not impregnate one of them thus further proving your impotence," she stated coldly. "You—"

Though she was not able to finish. Her cheek stung, sharp from being slapped, swelling from the impact.

"That is the _last _time you defy me girl," he snarled, an unnerving smile forming on his lips as he noticed the distress in his daughter's eyes. "I see the walls have crumbled. Leave my sight, girl."

She so desperately wanted to scream at him, curse him to the deepest pits of hell, but felt her body being pulled down the halls of her home. As she passed her mother, the freshly marred cheek in Renée's view, Bella heard her speak.

"Perhaps now you will learn your place, Isabella," she said smugly.

Bella did not respond to those vicious words. She went outside, marching away from her home, walking slowly towards the carriage. Disregarding the rain, she stopped for a moment, staring up into the sky.

Her breathing began to lose its rhythm, her chest tightening painfully. She felt as though her pride was broken, and for once, she allowed her defenses to fade away. Closing her eyes, memories from the past two years flashed in her mind. Some things could never be forgotten. They were forever imprinted in her mind, body, and soul, rendering her helpless.

"Never again," Bella whispered, a warm stream of water running down her face.

It was not the rain.

-:-

**Authoress Note**: Here is a nice, big ol' update for everyone. A little more dramatic…but it does not end here. There is much to be discovered. Much more to be found. Everyone has a skeleton in their closet, and some are about to be released. A big thank you for those who review. At least some people do really care. I appreciate it.

Update: I apologize if some of you think that I am "demanding" reviews with the previous quip. This is not my intention. I am expressing my thanks for those of whom have the time to leave me positive and negative feedback. I will not leave those who comment on the story in the dust. I will give them the proper thanks that are in order. It is common decency. When one steps out of the box before scrutinizing, things are seen in a different perspective.

Although this is not edited yet, I would like to thank my beta, Leiahlaloa, in advanced. Give her a round of applause, folks.

Much love.


	7. Chapter Seven: Damaged

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Seven: Damaged **

-:-

"_When I open my eyes I must sigh, for what I see is contrary to my religion, and I must despise the world which does not know that music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy."—Ludwig Van Beethoven_

**October 4, 1890**

Gray light poured into the room after yet another storm. Not a hint of sunlight had been seen in the two weeks that passed. Bella turned her body away from her roommates, staring bleakly at the wall. Life resumed at its normal pace, yet she felt as though _it _had still been yesterday. The swelling from her cheek had gone down, but a slight bruising remained, marring her pallid complexion.

She basked in the silence. The room was void of all human voice, for not one of the girls felt the need to speak. They had returned from morning prayers an hour prior, quiet and somber. Bella listened as the rain tapped against the window, imagining the soft pattering mimicking of her and Edward's collaboration. A mixture from Rosalie's impatient huffing synched with Alice's breathy counting of brush strokes. That was true music to her ears.

Though the calm had been broken once Rosalie cursed out loud, screeching as she threw her gown against the wall. Alice turned, witnessing as the red-faced blond pounded angrily at her mattress.

"What has put you in such a foul mood, Rosalie?" Alice asked, bemused at her friend's tantrum

Rosalie swore once more, walked across the room, picked up the gown, and sat upon her bed. "The blasted gown I was supposed to wear to the masquerade has been made _all _wrong!"

"What ever do you mean?"

"It. Does. Not. _Fit_!"

Alice left the vanity and measured the gown against Rosalie's stature. "It does seem that the seamstress made a mistake."

"Or perhaps I am becoming rounder," she sulked. "In all honesty, have I gotten fatter?"

"Do not be ridiculous! Your face does seem a bit fuller, but that could be due to your monthly curse approaching."

She blanched, idly nodding. "Yes, that must be the reason."

"Did you not try the gown on?"

"No, and my mother is going to have a fit because I insisted that it was perfect."

"You tend to let your sloth overcome your common sense," Alice laughed, shaking her head. "This can be corrected within the week, so there is no need for your hysterics."

Rosalie frowned, sadly tracing the patterns of her gown. "I cannot help it. It seems as though what could go wrong, _is _going wrong."

"Did another man mistake you for a whore at the pub?"

"Alice!"

Bella could not help the small chuckle escape from her lips. She turned to her friends and sighed. "You will only need to endure a small lecture from your mother. Do not fret."

"Her mother will find the whole situation amusing," Alice scoffed. "Rosalie is quite predictable. I am sure Lady Cullen expected as much. She really is making more out of her mother than there is, Bella."

"She is quite the character," Jasper said, appearing at the threshold of the door. "Speaking of whom, mother and father have arrived. They would like for us to attend lunch at _Bamford Hall_. Mother exclaims that it will be the _Maison Dorée _of London."

"Best of luck with your mother, Rosalie," Bella said as she opened the book from her side table. Thankfully, she was so lucky not to endure yet another Sunday with her mother and father. Business called the both of them elsewhere, as her mother so colorfully stated in her last letter.

"I see you have mistaken my words. Mother and Father would like for _all _of us to attend lunch."

"I could not possibly intrude on a family outing—"

"This is perfect!" Rosalie cheered as she grabbed for Bella's hand, dragging her out of their dorm. "Personally, I have mentioned you in my letters to mother at least a dozen times. I am sure Jasper has done so as well, once or twice. Edward, on the other hand, may have written a novel about you. He is infatuated, you know."

Descending the staircase, Bella caught the sight of whom she presumed to be Rosalie and Jasper's parents. Lord Cullen stood proudly in his tall stature, emanating an almost regal demeanor. He dressed aristocratically, a top hat covering platinum blond hair his children possessed. Even from afar, Bella caught the cobalt hue of his eyes, also inherited by Rosalie and Jasper, a gaze that held warmth despite its icy color. Sharp, prominent lines drew across the planes of his jaw, making his appearance, if not more, dignified. His strong features were a compliment to that of his wife.

She had been shorter than both her husband and children, perhaps a bit taller than Bella herself. Her soft, hazel eyes stared adoringly at her husband as they spoke to both Emmett and Edward. Lord Cullen returned the affection as he smoothed a stray piece of caramel colored hair behind Lady Cullen's hair. Bella had been surprised when all four of their stares pointed directly, feeling suddenly conscious of herself.

"Mother, Father! It seems as though it has been an eternity." Rosalie's parents returned the greeting, expressing their joy at their daughter's sight. She beamed happily, and stepped aside. "May I present our newest and dearest friend, Miss Isabella Swan, or as she prefers, Miss Bella Swan. Bella, may I introduce my father, Lord Carlisle Cullen, and my mother, Lady Esme Cullen."

Bella swept into a low, graceful curtsy, careful not to show her surprise at their titles. "Lord and Lady, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Pardon for my intrusion upon your visitation here at Pierce."

"My dear, it is not an intrusion in any way. From the way my children have spoken of you, I am to presume that you _are _part of the family." Esme smiled genially, taking Bella's hand within hers. "I hear that you and Edward are working on a musical piece together for the oncoming winter recital."

"I hope he is not being beastly," Carlisle said, shooting a reproachful look at his nephew.

Edward rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms, glowering at his uncle's words. "I will have you know that—"

"—that he has been the most formidable monster. Only you can tame the beast, Father."

"I would have to disagree. I am sure a certain beauty could give your father a run for his shillings," Emmett chuckled, responding to Rosalie's comment. He shot a wink towards Bella, earning a glare in response. "To hear the two of them banter is most entertaining."

Esme sent her nephew a disapproving stare. "For shame! I assure you, Edward has been raised better, Miss Swan."

"Believe me when I say, I have dealt with more _challenging_ persons." Bella pointedly stared at Edward, receiving a quizzical brow.

"I would have to concur with, Mr. McCarty," Jasper commented, further goading the conversation. "My dear Cousin seems to have met his match in the art of the quarrel, the recitation of piano sonatas, among other things." Thoughts trailed to the night of Edward losing to that hand of poker.

"How is it that my improper conduct becomes the subject of our conversations?" Edward mused, his tone dripping with cynicism.

"It is your father's arrogance," Carlisle responded, thinking of his late brother. "And that incorrigible behavior of his was quite an annoyance, although Elizabeth did find it endearing."

"It seems as though Miss Swan is in concurrence with his inherited manners," Alice chimed in, shrill with laughter. "One could say she is right on _top_."

Rosalie coughed a fit of giggles, recalling Edward and Bella in that compromising position. Earning confused stares, she scratched at her neck. "Pardon, I had a tickle in my throat." Receiving a glare from Bella, she continued, "So, shall we be off? I am positively famished."

"Yes, come now; let us go to the carriages."

The rain had eased into a mere drizzle, though it was not enough to tempt the city's occupants to venture the streets. They walked out of the foyer towards two separate carriages, dividing their group. Bella silently cursed herself for not bringing an umbrella, but she found herself dry as she stepped outside. Staring, she saw that Edward held an umbrella over both of them. When she raised an eyebrow at his action, he merely shrugged, grasping her hand within his as he led her into the carriage.

Before she could enter, Edward inclined his head, keeping a hold of Bella's hand. "I _can _be a gentleman," he said quietly.

"I did not doubt you."

"It seems as though my actions have spoken otherwise." He allowed for her to enter the carriage before taking a seat next to her. So as not to be heard, Edward turned his head towards hers in a manner to stare out of the window. "But do not flatter yourself, Miss Swan, I merely humor you. You have not _seen _how challenging I can be."

"Is that a warning, Mr. Cullen?"

"Oh no, Miss Swan. It is an assurance. I merely humor you with my insidious flirting. It is no fault of mine if you fall for my charms."

"And do you deny this feeling of attraction?"

He smirked at her bold advances. It was a game he had yet to play with a woman, and he dearly enjoyed it. "It is not uncommon to be attracted to things you cannot have, no matter how painful it may be."

"I see. Then I apologize, Mr. Cullen, for causing you such pain."

"What the devil are you talking about?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"I see that my actions have spoken otherwise as well. I did not mean to lead you on." Her eyes peeked at him from beneath her lashes, as they innocently batted against her rosy cheeks. "But you have only yourself to blame for this _attraction_ you feel for me. Although, as you said, it is not uncommon." Bella's lips could no longer hold the coy impression she meant to display when her naïve smile formed into a smirk. "And you did admit that it could not be denied—after all, I am not the one who began this whole debacle."

"And I have?"

"Your intimidating stare that first day of school along with your capricious actions…do you think I did not take notice? You are completely besotted with me despite your impetuous bouts of arrogance. Even the ardency in the kiss we shared—I could feel the tension you so desperately try to hide."

Edward's eyes widened slightly, rendered speechless from her words. From the corner of his eye, he noticed both Alice and Jasper were lost in their own conversation, faintly relieved that they had not heard her demure whispers.

"How does it feel, Mr. Cullen?" She asked him, keeping her stare fixated on the window. A low, almost inaudible laugh caught his ears, causing his gaze to fall upon Bella's face with shock. "How does it feel to be pursued most obstinately? To have your words and actions twisted in another's advantage. But do not flatter yourself, Mr. Cullen, I merely humor you." Her eyes brightened, glowing with mirth, noticing his mouth slightly drop. "I believe it is your turn, Mr. Cullen."

But he could not utter a word. Her flow of words ran through his head, processing each statement, analyzing each phrase. Silently, he applauded her. Apparently she enjoyed the game they played as well, and Bella was indeed a worthy opponent.

"Edward, are you feeling ill? Your face is flushed."

He snapped his head up to meet Jasper and Alice's concerned gaze, noting Bella had just now turned her gaze from the window to his face. "No, I am quite fine, thank you."

"You should bundle up, Mr. Cullen. You would not want to catch your death."

"Thank you, Miss Swan. I am delighted to know I have your concern for my wellbeing." He rubbed his hands together, igniting warmth between his hands, so to play his part. "Perhaps you may provide me with warmth by _certain_ means."

"You are utterly and completely horrendous!"

"Pardon, Miss Swan, but _I _was suggesting for you to knit a scarf for my health. Pray, what were _you _speaking of?"

Bella reddened at his words as Jasper and Alice exchanged an amused glance.

"Your turn," he whispered haughtily under his breath.

-:-

_Bamford Hall _proved to be a delight. In spite of the dreary weather, the daylight set a beautiful glow through the glass dome of the building. Pleasant conversation was held among their company, praising the delectable food and the bittersweet wine. The boys exchanged words of their property and business while the women conversed of the latest fashions. As their main course was led away, an assortment of desserts remained in its wake.

"I must say, I have not tasted a more flavored chicken dish. It was simply superb," Carlisle said, indulging on the savory and puddings before him. "We must return."

Esme smiled, modestly dabbing at the corners of her mouth. "I cannot agree more. Perhaps we may return on the eve of the winter recital. That would seem most congenial."

"That is not possible, my dear. Her Majesty has invited us to dine with her. We are to sit with her party."

Bella inaudibly gasped at Carlisle's words, but it did not go unnoticed by Alice. She turned to her right towards her friend, cinnamon eyes wide, astonished. "Why is it that I am the only one surprised by this statement?" she whispered in haste.

Alice smiled, feigning amusement at the table's conversation, as she turned demurely. "Do not be alarmed, Bella. Your reaction is one to be expected—Ihad the same expression when Rosalie first told me of such invites. You see, Lord Cullen is of regal heritage and falls within the royal bloodline. He is the heir of nobility, and Her Majesty is quite taken with him. She even offered him the role of Prime Minister! But Lord Cullen is far too modest, for he kindly declined to keep his seat as a Member of Parliament.

"Lady Cullen is the favorite niece of Lord William Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire. Although her father was not Duke himself, Her Majesty bestowed his family to be recognized under Royal Warrant. She frequently sends invites for Lord and Lady to dine or attend shows with her party."

"I did not realize I was in such company."

"As if you are one to scoff at."

"Whatever do you mean by that, Alice?"

She sipped her water, throwing a sidelong glance at Jasper, before she continued with her speech. "You cannot hide your past from me, Bella. My mother is Italian as well. She knew your father's family in her youth. You are noble in your own right. House of Medici, if I recall."

"Never again will I underestimate you."

"I make up in my height with my knowledge."

Finishing the remnants of pudding bread and savories, the party left _Bamford Hall._ Upon arrival to the academy, Carlisle and Esme obliged their children's pleas and remained in the parlor to speak for moments longer. The women trailed to the girl's dormitory, where the subject of Rosalie's gown had come into conversation. As Alice had assumed, Esme was much amused.

Smiling, Esme watched as her daughter emerged from the dressing screen, the gown undone from her back. "Is the stomacher tight enough?"

"Unbearably so, Mother."

"I am sure we can pin the gown together," Esme murmured. "But it is quite unflattering. Even your bosom cannot be contained. Genevieve must have made a mistake. Tell me, Rosalie, has your monthly begun? Perhaps you are bloated."

"Not yet, Mama, no." Rosalie wrapped her arms around her waist, upset with the situation. She stood and stepped behind the dressing screen once more, kicking off the gown from her body. Gasping, she unlaced the stomacher and corset, allowing them to pool to the floor. "I think I may need a bit of a lie down. I am quite dizzy."

Esme furrowed her eyebrows, walking to her daughter's bedside as she tucked into the covers. "Are you ill, Rosalie?"

"No, Mother. My sleep has been fitful as of lately. I shall retire for bed early."

"Be well, my dear. Your father and I must resume our calls of the town."

"Of course. Please give Father my love."

Placing a chaste kiss upon her blonde curls, Esme escorted Bella and Alice out of the room, allowing Rosalie to sleep. They made idle talk as they descended the staircase, entering the parlor that held the men. Something seemed to be humorous to the men, for their laughter echoed through the corridors.

"What has put you in such spirits?"

"I mentioned to the boys how they are being propositioned," Carlisle chuckled.

"Propositioned?"

"It seems as though that Mackenzie fellow is relentless in his pursuit for the boys and Rosalie. His calls upon our Manor have become quite frequent. Not a day passes where I have not heard from him."

"Nor from his wife." Esme sniffed, pursing her lips with annoyance. "She even had the nerve to attempt a social call between her son and Rosalie! I did not have it, and vehemently mentioned her engagement."

Emmett snorted, bemused. "Rosalie is a bit too mature for some child."

"He is of mine and Jasper's age, Emmett, but he does not act it."

"And what does he act as?"

"A brownnosing, pompous ass."

"Edward, you mind your tongue! You do not even know the boy."

"Yes, but I know _of _him and his antics, aunt Esme."

"Minding his words, I would have to say that Mr. Cullen's observations are true." All eyes were diverted to Bella. She could not help the words, but felt the need to express her discontent.

"You know the young Mr. Mackenzie, Miss Swan?"

"Oh, yes, unfortunately we are of acquaintance," she said in hesitance. A familiar rush of blood spread through her cheeks, her head pounding from the thought of _him_.

"How could he not, in Edward's word, be a brownnosing, pompous ass?" Carlisle drawled, blunt with his words. "With the boy's father acting the way he does. I firmly said to the man, '_Sir, my children are happy where they are educated._' Honestly, why would I send my children to a school that solely focuses on music? Pierce is a highly refutable academy."

Esme nodded her head in accord. "It is simply the perfect academy for all of you, dears. It is one thing to study the art of music as a profession, but if life takes you towards a different path, then you must be educated of all aspects in life. Pierce is brilliant in that it offers a variety of lessons for both young men and ladies."

Emmett grinned cheekily. "I do not think I could spend my life being a slave to the cello."

"Nor I with the violin."

"But you all play so well!"

"But if one does not have the heart to compose and perform music, or even sing, it is a sin in itself," Alice said softly. "Matter not the sweetest of melodies or harmonious the voice; when there is no ardency, music has lost its meaning."

"Well put, my love." Jasper smiled warmly, offering her an assuring glance. He returned his stare to his father, conferring a nod. "I suppose we should bid you farewell."

Checking his pocket watch, Carlisle ruefully smiled, embracing his son. "Unfortunately. We shall visit within the following weeks." He offered Emmett words, shaking his hand, then turned to Edward. "Be on your guard, Son. You do not want to embarrass me at the winter recital," he jested.

"Of course not, Uncle. I am sure Miss Swan will not allow it."

"I _assure _you that it will not happen, Lord Cullen," Bella said, slightly narrowing her eyes at Edward. "We have made excellent progress."

"As it should be." Esme embraced each of them, tears pooling in her eyes. "It is quite difficult to part with one's children. Oh how these visits vex me so!"

"Mind your nerves, Lady Cullen," Carlisle said, winking at his wife. "We will see you all very soon."

With once last farewell, Carlisle and Esme walked out of the Academy doors and into their private carriage. Dinner quickly approached, and each sat in their respective seat, enjoying the warm, delicious food. They spoke quietly among one another, musing about the day's events.

"Where might Miss Cullen, be?" Cecelia asked, snidely, interrupting their conversation.

Rolling her eyes, Alice glared at the fair-haired girl. "She was quiet fatigued and retired early."

"Or perhaps it is her gluttonous ways from ingesting spirits," she murmured quietly.

"I think I may have to let the priest know you have become delirious again, Miss Ismay. As I recall, you were the one running down the halls, raving about the fey."

Cecelia huffed angrily, her face red with embarrassment, and returned to her spiteful conversations.

Bella raised an eyebrow, inquiring an explanation. "I am sorry to have missed such a spectacle."

"Ah, well you remember when Rosalie bickered about how we almost got caught?" Alice whispered. "Well, Cecelia had been getting on her last nerves, so Rosalie swiped a flask of Jasper's and poured the contents into Cecelia's punch. No one had noticed a thing until we were awoken that night with her screaming bouts of nonsense."

"And she told Headmaster Charleston?"

"She blamed her, but without proof or witnesses, her accusations were proven false."

Laughing, Bella mused over the incident, and resumed with her meal. Her appetite had been lost due to the enormous lunch they had consumed earlier that day. Pushing around her greens with a fork, she finally placed her napkin upon the table, surrendering to the unmerciful plate of food. Instead, she sipped at her water, dazed.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Swan? Conscious of your figure?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Cullen, I am quite fond of my figure."

"As am I."

"I already know of your conceit."

"Pardon, I was speaking of _your _figure, Miss Swan," Edward replied, smirking wickedly, popping a piece of lamb in his mouth.

"It really is a shame, Mr. Cullen, that you lack the ability to converse, but not the ability of speech."

He chuckled in his baritone voice, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You wound me with your words, Miss Swan. I merely jest with you, but I do enjoy our witty repartee."

"I speak truthfully, for I wish to live an honest life."

"A most endearing quality, I must say. Now tell me, how well acquainted with Alexander Mackenzie are you?"

She visibly paled at his inquiry. The simple mention of _his_ name sent her into a dizzy twist of emotions. Her head throbbed angrily as she relapsed into unwanted feelings. "To my dismay, too well."

"And how well is too well?"

"Mr. Cullen, you once told me that you were not one to pry."

Edward stared at her intently; shocked to find the same look of despair she wore from time to time as she played the piano. Her eyes were staring into his, but she seemed utterly lost. He nodded slowly, allowing for her to continue.

"I find myself unable to regain my strength," she whispered lowly for only him to hear. Her voice lowered ever so softly, but filled with an unhidden sadness. "I have not found my wings as of yet."

Folding his hands, he rested his head upon them, contemplating what she had said. _What did he do to you? _Edward so badly wanted to ask, but he respected her wishes and continued with his meal. Their games had ended for the day.

-:-

Moonlight spilled onto the floorboards of the room. The curtains flowed gently with the wind from the open window of the balcony, the scent of wet stone and earth following its path. A storm brewed in the London skies, partially concealing the moon from the city. The angry blue-grey clouds reflected unkindly upon the waters by the Parliament building, a harsher wind picking up as each moment passed.

A solemn cry in the night began softly, though became an uncontrollable fit of rage. She screamed into her hands, covering her mouth, head facedown into the pillow to muffle any noise. Unsympathetic, the heavens rumbled a roar of thunder, overpowering her silent howls. Fate had dealt her a cruel hand, and now she had to endure the repercussions that would follow.

"Rosalie?"

Both Alice and Bella sat on each side of her bed, staring curiously at the girl. The bitter chill the wind had brought in awoken the girls. Upon hearing Rosalie's muffled cries; concern overcame Alice, causing her to wake Bella.

"Rosalie, if you are still upset with the gown, we will send it away at noon—"

She looked into Alice's eyes, but burst into another set of tears, interrupting her friend. Her back rested against the backboard of the bed, her knees pulled to her chest. A heavy shudder shook her whole body followed by a heavy sob. "Get Emmett."

"Why—"

"_Please!_"

"Rosalie." Realization dawned upon Alice, her eyes widening at Rosalie's pleas. She grabbed for Rosalie's hand, but could not find herself to do so. "Oh, _Rosalie_, tell me you—"

"Get Emmett," Rosalie whispered, her voice cracking with each word. Her hands trailed down to her stomach, hugging her midsection tightly.

Shaking her head, Alice slipped out of the room, her feet quietly padding down to the boy's wing of the Academy. Neither spoke as Rosalie continued to sob into her pillow. Bella offered comfort to her friend, rubbing a hand up and down her back. She did not know what to say, but continued to show compassion.

"Rosalie—"

"I am with child, Bella."

Her eyes rounded with surprise, a gasp escaping her lips. "Surely—"

"I am with child, Bella," Rosalie repeated. Forlorn, her voice held a bitter edge, raw from crying. "I lied to my mother. I have been ill since schooling began, unable to keep my meals down, getting plumper. I am tired _all _the time, yet I cannot sleep."

"Perhaps it is the flu—"

"I have not had my monthly curse for two months, and I doubt I will have one this month." Rosalie rested her head upon the pillow, staring into the darkness of the room. "I am a sinner." Her sheets crumpled with her fists, fresh tears streaming down her face. "But I do not regret what I have done. I am irrevocably in love with Emmett, and if what I have done is a sin, and if what we have created is a sin, then I embrace the consequences of my actions. But at the moment, I am afraid, Bella, so afraid, and confused. This feeling…it is indefinable."

Finding her voice, Bella clasped hands with Rosalie, pulling her into a hug. "Do not be afraid, Rosalie, for all will be well. You have Emmett, you have your family, and you have us. No harm will come to you nor your reputation. We are flawed, we all have our imperfections, but we are only human." She pulled back, smiling tearfully at her friend.

The moments passed, and Alice returned with Emmett. He immediately rushed to her side, holding her within his arms. The girls trailed to the balcony, allowing the couple their bit of privacy.

Alice shivered as the wind blew against her lithe frame. She pulled her robe tightly against her body, her hair whipping across her face. "Is this what life has in store for us, Bella? Are we to be punished for not obeying the rules?"

"No one is being punished, Alice."

"God has great vengeance."

"God also has great compassion." Bella lifted her head towards the heavens, allowing for the small droplets to hit her pale skin. She breathed in the brisk, autumn air, opening her eyes to catch one last glimpse of the moon. "Everyone has great sorrow bestowed upon them. Society prefers to stare blindly, pretending that these unpleasant situations do not exist. Despite a woman in monarchy, we are bound and restricted. Men of society are unfaithful to their wives, seeking comfort from prostitutes and whores of Scotland Yard. Girls like Cecelia Ismay are raised to turn the other cheek and to produce an heir.

"But we are different from these soulless, society people. We accept the sorrow for what it is worth. We allow ourselves to feel both God's wrath _and _sympathy. Society may not deem us fit to their standards, for we do not act as proper women. I am flawed, Alice, just as much as you are. Do not see what has happened to Rosalie as a punishment. She will be married within the week. She will escape the confines of this prison. She will have a beautiful child and many more that will follow. But the cycle of what society has instilled upon us will be broken. Rosalie will not allow her daughters to be raised as the inferior sex. Emmett will not allow his sons to be raised as ruthless mongers."

"I suppose you are right."

"As you once said, Alice, we all may have our secrets, but it is only a matter of time before the world knows of our indiscretions."

Alice nodded, leaning against the balcony's frame. "Perhaps now is the time for Rosalie and Emmett."

Not five minutes later did Emmett retrieve them from the balcony. He did not speak, but exited their room in silence. Rosalie had fallen asleep, her face seemingly at ease. Bella lay in her bed, reflecting on the events that had occurred.

Before she arrived to Pierce, before months past, she was a timid girl. One of _them_. A proper, young lady of society.

She was _his_ only months ago. It pleased her parents, and she so desperately vied for their attention. Their courting had been short, and she was rendered breathless. His words had been so pretty. So perfect. So _believable_. She had been so blind to the world; to his actions.

But reality burned her eyes like the white hot sunlight on a summer day. That memory was forever instilled in her mind, locked in the deepest corners, saved for the days when she needed strength. She had come into this world, foolishly thinking that her father was actually fond of her. Silly enough to think that her mother gave a damn about her. Childish enough to think that _he_ really loved her.

Every single event that took place, months prior, led her to the defiant woman she was today. She was averse to living that life once more. Bella had adopted a new lifestyle, formed bonds with these girls—she had found her place. She knew it would not be easy. She knew that her past would come to haunt her. It was one of the hardships she faced by accepting the truth.

Just as Alice had to deal with not being able to dance and just as Rosalie must endure conceiving a child out of wedlock, Bella would have to come to terms that some wounds would never heal. She would always be marred by the scars from her past, glaring back at her, ugly and deformed, but they were reminders. They were her battle wounds to bear, forever engraved to remind her that she was damaged.

Then again, was there really such a person who was left unmarked by their imperfections?

-:-

**Authoress Note: **Apologies for the late updates. Again, I produce eight pages in a snap, but something comes up. I had to endure a Calculus and Econ class this past summer, and now my schooling has began. I have yet another Calculus class and Organic Chemistry. Those who have/are taking Organic Chemistry—you have my deepest sympathies. Why am I premed again?

I would like to thank each and every one of my reviewers. You are absolutely the only reason why I keep pushing to update and write. You are my motivation. My inspiration. My determination.

I also want to thank my lovely beta Leiahlaloa, despite the chapter not being edited at the moment. I am impatient, and she balances me out.

Much love!


	8. Chapter Eight: Drink To Forget

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series; that right is reserved to Stephenie Meyer. I also don't own any musical pieces that may be presented in this story, unless I say otherwise. I do write my own song lyrics.

-:-

R&R

**-:-**

_**IMPORTANT:**_ Please read note at the end of this chapter for helping the people in Haiti.

-:-

**In Love and Music**

**Chapter Eight: Drink To Forget **

-:-

"_Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent."—Victor Hugo_

**October 12, 1890**

A soft repetition of keys echoed throughout the corridors. The slow, grave melody carried gently into the cloudless night. Her right hand kept true with the sonata's original path, the ostinato triplet rhythm flowing from her fingertips with ease. Much like the misunderstood movements of the sonata, she poured her heart within the piece. The very pitch evoked a flurry of emotions within her heart, emotions that she desperately tried to lock away.

The movement eased into the second movement, continuing with a more conventional pace of minuet and trio. Listening, she bent her head, enveloping the melody deep into her soul. The sound was haunting, yet tragically beautiful. Each note had brought her to tears. To her, this one piece defined where and who she was in the world, but _he _had sorely tainted this particular musical piece for her. It was this very song that resonated the very same night she learned of Alexander's deception. Despite it all, Bella had found the piece lovely, for it simply held no specific meaning. It was not solid, not tangible; it was never something that mankind could actually label.

In that, she found comfort in music. People may compose music. People may be able to perform each piece flawlessly. But people could _not _make sense of the notes. To each their own, had been her philosophy on music. As her _nonno _taught her, each key, note, pitch, tone, or whatever one may fancy, held a different meaning to different people. There were exceptions, however. _Nonna _Swan had taught her that, much like love, music would always find its right path in a song, just as the perfect man would find his woman.

A blush crept to her cheeks as her thoughts carried to a more brazen metaphor she had developed. The interaction between a piece and its melody was equivalent to the act of love between that of a man and woman. When in Paris, she learned carnal desire from books and operas. The description had her think of music, how certain beats and pulses coincided, how each steady resonance sinuously moved to an ardent rhythm. Though as a young lady in the court of France, she banished the idea, hiding it away into the deepest corners of her mind. At such an age it was hardly appropriate, to lie back and think of England was something done on a brides wedding night.

Though at the moment, at this place of time she was at now, things had changed. The actions of others had a tendency to influence those around them.

Thus leading Bella to sit in the recital hall, absentmindedly playing into the night, not caring of the lecture she would receive if she would be caught. It had all been so futile, for time always continued on its journey. It never stopped. Not for anyone.

Like the dreary months of endless rain, time passed.

It had been exactly one week since Rosalie and Emmett departed from Pierce Academy. Exactly one week since they had been married. Exactly one week since things had changed. No one was told of the pregnancy, and no one had been wise of their hasty nuptials. Rosalie's form had yet to show any signs due to her lithe, slender frame. Having the potential to be the biggest scandal of England, the child would have a premature birth in the eyes of society. Only those who knew the truth were the ones who would not judge.

They were lucky, in her opinion, to have escaped the unforgiveable treatments of this harsh society.

No. What had happened to Rosalie and Emmett was a blessing in disguise. God did not make mistakes, but instead _people _made mistakes. God offers his children opportunities to turn an unfortunate situation into a fortunate one. Society preached of sinners and saints. Sinners would be sent to hell. Saints would ascend towards the heavens. In some sense, those words were true, but had everything society considered a sin, the entire world would be engulfed in flames and brimstone.

Had there been any justice, most of the men in England, Alexander including, would be prodded by fiery pitchforks. How was it acceptable for a man to lay with another woman, but inappropriate for a woman to lay with another man. Though she did not believe the act of infidelity as moral, the inequity between both sexes irked her. The preaching from the pastor during morning prayers, along with the lessons her mother spoke, seemed to be hypocritical. If prostitutes and whores were damned to hell, what is to happen to the men that lay with them? Were they not just as, if not more, guilty of such a transgression?

Heaven forbid she spoke freely of her thoughts on society. She was but a silly little girl who had almost ruined the reputation of her family though the fault was not hers alone. He was as much to blame as her. After all, it was he who pulled her into the vacant room, allowing her to indulge on his choice of liquor. He was adamant, exclaiming his raptures of the blush that appeared on her cheeks from drinking. And when she escaped his advances, unmarred, he had seemed so collected. Though later that night when she searched for him to fulfill his promise of dancing the last waltz of the evening, she had learned that things were not as the fairytales promised.

She never did get to dance the last waltz.

Stumbling across the next set of keys, the melody fell into uneven notes. A broken stream of breaths fell from her lips as she shook, distraught from the recollection. Her arms wrapped around her waist, body gently rocking, willing the tears not to fall. Enough had been shed in times past and more would have been in vain. As she rose to leave, Bella found it difficult to move, for two hands pushed lightly down upon her shoulders.

"Never leave a song unfinished, Miss Swan." Edward slipped behind Bella on the bench, straddling her body. "At times, it seems as though the things that come easy to us become impossible." His hands slowly ran from her shoulders to the length of her arms and finally reached their destination. "That doing such tasks will cause us an unimaginable amount of pain." Palms rested upon the backs of her hands, his fingers entwining through hers, curling in a comforting manner. "But they are not as hard as they seem."

"They are when you are alone," her voice quivered as the threat of tears tightened her throat.

"Where am I? I am here, sitting with you. You are most definitely not alone."

"You do not know my pain, Mr. Cullen."

"No, but I do know of pain. I have had my fair share. But remember that my heart beats as does yours, drumming to the same tune. Without this melody that our bodies create, we could not _live_." He rested his head upon her shoulder, resuming playing the sonata. "Never leave a song unfinished, Miss Swan, because at any moment in our short lives, our hearts will forever stop, and without our recitation, as does the life of the song."

He hummed along with each chime, smiling when she slowly continued each set, mimicking his movements. The lingering sound of their hurt resounded against the walls, yet for once they shared their pain with another person. Gradually, Edward pulled his hands away, allowing Bella to carry on without him.

As the ending approached, Bella smiled through the heavy flow of anguish, absentmindedly leaning back into his chest. Sniffling, she bent her head, listening to the sound of their breathing. "Thank you."

"There is nothing to thank me for, Miss Swan." Edward lifted one leg from around the bench, facing Bella with a solemn grin. "I know you hurt, but you cannot let this overcome you. You told me that you have not found your strength. I believe that is a lie, for without strength, you could not have endured what haunts you."

"It feels as though I am drowning…that I am stuck beneath an unforgiving storm, gasping for life through the murderous, azure waves. I try so desperately to hold onto something, but there is nothing." Bella pulled her robe tighter around her frame, shivering from the flood of emotions. "Nothing but water…nothing but succumbing to their demands."

"Miss Swan, please close your eyes for a moment." Sighing, she complied with his request. "Now relive what bothers you. Step away from those memories, yet watch as they pass by. Remember the fresh ache you felt at those moments of time." Cupping her trembling face within his hands, Edward whispered to her. "Open your eyes, Miss Swan."

The glisten of unshed tears vanished from her stare. She exhaled, finding it easier as the tightening in her throat had left as well.

"It does not seem so scary now, does it?"

Bella inhaled deeply, offering her body relief. "No, I suppose not."

Smiling fondly, he brushed his thumb from beneath her eyes, wiping away any trace of tears. She fell into Edward's hands, accepting the warmth they provided. A deep sense of comfort washed over her due to his presence. But a whisper lay between their bodies as they unconsciously leaned towards one another.

She felt warm. A rush of Tuscan air swept her face like the summers she would spend in Italy. Her heart would soar, like at this very moment, when the sun would wrap her in affectionate embrace as she ran through the soft sand.

Their lips met with the softest of touches. She sat still, unsure of what to do, clumsily following his movements. His fingers ran down the side of her face, tracing the curve of her jaw, tilting her head towards his, beckoning a response. The thrumming of her heartbeat echoed in her ears; she swore that it was embarrassingly impossible for him not to hear the incessant pounding. But she cared not if the thumping caught his ears. She did not even care as Edward's head slowly lowered to her neck, his nose skimming the flushed skin, however the contact evoked a gasp.

Edward stiffened, ceasing his actions, his breathing erratic and wild, warming the flesh of her neck. He pulled back, not quite catching her eye. A hand ran through his tousled bronze locks, and in an instant, the air had turned. "Miss Swan, I…"

She awaited a response, but received only silence.

He stood quickly from the piano bench, placing distance between him and Bella. Cursing, Edward began pacing around the room, hands fisting the fabric of his wrinkled attire. "I apologize," he said, vehemently.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I—I apologize for my conduct. It was very foolish of me—to think if an Instructor had entered…God forbid one of our pupils…"

Bella frowned.

"—what I have done is simply unforgiveable—"

"Mr. Cullen," she interrupted, her head shaking with disdain. "If I recall, I did not see you begging for penance when you assaulted me in The Red Room—"

"That was hardly an assault. If _I _recall, I was saving you from a man's less than honorable intentions. I kissed you for your own safety."

"Your heroics were less than chaste."

"And you call _me _insufferable," Edward growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yet you are the one patronizing me for apologizing for my impropriety!" Muttering under his breath, he whispered, "You cannot win with people."

"Well, I apologize if this whole debacle was _so _horrendous for you. Goodbye!" Bella abruptly stood from the piano bench, attempting to march off towards the door, but found her feet tangled in the skirts of her gown. Mere inches from the wooden floors, she found herself being pulled back an upright stance, staring into a pair of surprised emerald eyes.

"I swear, woman, you are truly mad."

"I am not the one raving like a lunatic! Are you sure you are not some actor in a play, Mr. Cullen? Not a professional liar who performs for spare change like a pillager in the ghettos of London?" Bella sniffed angrily, forcefully removing his hands from her shoulders. "All of you men are the same."

Edward's eyes glazed over with an emotion not quite definable, his hands clenched at his sides once more. "And you claim not to make haste with judgment? That is quite laughable, for I am witnessing firsthand the very fallacy you find hypocritical." Turning, his fists pounded softly against the wall. "Do not even think that you know of my person, Miss Swan, for you will be sorely mistaken by your unjust opinions."

"And what have I seen to not form said opinion? From the moment I met you, you have done nothing but given me false impressions with your insidious flirting and cryptic semantics!"

"Pardon, but were you not the one who followed my actions, toying with me for your own amusement? I did not hear you protest."

"You began this whole mess—"

"Do not go pointing fingers at me as though you are some pertinacious child!"

"Unbelievable!" she nearly screamed, though her voice was muffled as Edward's hand clamped over her mouth. He pressed a finger to his lips, silencing both of them, listening. The distinct groaning of the floorboards could be heard from outside at the other end of the hall. Bella's eyes widened with panic, prying his hand from her lips so as she could speak. "Surely they will come in here!"

"I know that," he hissed in return, his gaze shifting back and forth to formulate a plan. Grabbing her hand, Edward opened the door, slowly peaking out, surveying for clearance. He tugged her wrist, beckoning her to follow, and quietly stepped down the dark corridors. As they met at the dividing crossroad that separated their rooms, he dropped her arm, staring angrily at the floor.

Before she could speak, Edward held up his hand, not quite meeting her gaze. "I do not need to hear anymore of your insults, Miss Swan. I merely ask that you forgive me for my conduct tonight. Quite frankly, you frighten me with the amount of power you hold over me. Your friendship is something I value immensely."

She stood, shocked, unable to find the words.

"Surprised? Yes, I know. I find it hard to believe myself." His hands ran through his already tousled hair, tugging the strands with frustration. "From the moment I first caught your gaze on the beginning recital, I knew there had been something quite different about you. Your eyes, your very stare, separates you from the rest of these fools the academy labels as our peers. When in the right mind, you see people for who they truly are, disregarding appearance and status. On that first day, you saw me, noting my devilishly good looks—"

"I did nothing of the sort—" Bella protested.

"Yes you did, and it is quite all right. But you pushed that aside. You did not waver in the least bit when I challenged you, or by my abrupt opinions of you." Turning his back to her, Edward's head dropped, chin touching his chest, breath ragged. "There are many things in my life that I am not proud of, Miss Swan, and for that you deserve much more than what I could possibly offer you."

"Surely, you can stop the indulgence of spirits and smoke."

Mirthlessly, he laughed. "Oh, how innocent you are, Miss Swan. No, I do not speak of our late night excursions to various billiards and pubs. I speak of things that may be far beyond your comprehension." Footsteps echoed through the corridors, slowly approaching closer to their hall. "I bid you goodnight, Miss Swan."

Bella stood, staring at his retreating figure, whispering, "If only really knew, Mr. Cullen…"

With that, she returned to the comfort of her own bed, but could not help the echoing of the same song within her mind. It both lulled and haunted her, and slowly she drifted into a quick, uneasy sleep.

_Anticipation ran its electric current throughout her body. She positively hummed from the surge of energy, almost unable to contain herself from her mother's distasteful glare. But she could not help it. Tonight was another ball to attend, yet it was not just any mere gathering held at an insignificant person's house. It was at his house. The man who stole her heart the moment they met. _

"_Now, Isabella, I expect you to be on your best behavior," Mrs. Swan said, her tone filled with warnings. "I will not be subjected to embarrassment due to your appalling mannerisms. Thus far you have done well in charming the Mackenzie family, but tonight is of extreme importance. Being courted is a game that you must let the man win."_

"_Yes, Mother."_

"_For pity's sake, breathe, girl," Mr. Swan growled, his face etched with irritation. "Your face is nearly burning crimson. We cannot afford such foolishness from you." Grabbing her jaw in his hand, he roughly pulled her forward to stare into his venomous eyes. "Mark my words, Isabella, you have cost this family far too much. Now is time to repay. We expect a proposal."_

_Bella refrained from touching her pained face, worried that it might bruise. "Of course, Father. I will not disappoint you."_

"_You've disappointed me the moment you first took a breath from this world," he sneered coldly. "But, you may redeem yourself for the burden you have caused this family."_

"_Yes, Father."_

_Guilt consumed her body as her father's words sunk in. She had been the only child in her family with no boy to carry on their name. Her unfortunate birth was a constant reminder of their lacking, causing anger towards their only daughter. From the moment she could comprehend as a young child, the day her grandfather drew his last breath, her parents made it known that she was a curse upon the family. _

_Their friendship from the previous summer spurred into something more. Time passed, and just two months prior did she first receive Alexander's letters of pretty words that were then followed by jewelry and visits; she finally found a way to be redeemed for her troubles._

_By being courted by Alexander, by accepting his gestures, Bella found clemency from her parents. No longer did she hear mother's words dripping with disdain nor was she on the receiving end of her father's withering glares._

_She found her redemption._

_The scene blurred to the moment before they had entered the building. Her mother held both her arms in a vice grip, pulling her close to disguise the action of motherly affection, as whispered viciously in her ear. "Keep up with this charade, Isabella, and perhaps we shall see a wedding within the year." Mrs. Swan pushed her daughter away, taking the arm of her husband, and walked into the building without her. _

_She almost laughed at her mother's words. Little did they know, she herself was smitten with Alexander. In fact, she had fallen in love with him. Knowing that this was their last week in France, Alexander made haste with his romanticism, staking his claim upon her. The moment the words spilled from his lips, she could not help but let herself give into him then. Boldly, he bent his head and pressed his lips against her. Surprisingly, she in turn allowed the gesture._

_Brought out of her reverie, the night passed with a whim. She was greeted lovingly by Sir and Lady Mackenzie, by Alexander, and was whisked in a series of dances by her suitor. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, exclaiming that the crimson on her face resembled a sunset in the horizon. He attempted to pull her in a vacant room, wanting to repeat of what happened the previous day, but Bella denied him. _

_Shrugging, he stalked back out of the room. As he went to fetch for some punch, she clasped her hands with his, audaciously staring at him, "Promise me the last waltz, Alexander."_

_His eyebrows rose at their joined hands, amused by her forward actions. "Of course."_

_She stared after him with a smile, until she heard a girlish voice squeal her name. Turning around, her smile broadened, embracing the other girl. "Anna!"_

"_Oh, Bella! How are you fairing, Cousin?"_

"_Quite well, actually. France is everything I hoped it would be. I cannot believe we are to leave tomorrow for New Orleans."_

_Bella frowned at her cousin's words. "You will not see my debut at the Royal Academy of Music?"_

"_Unfortunately not. The ship leaves to the states leaves around the time of your debut, but the blasted things are always delayed." Anna pouted, tapping a finger to her chin. "Are you to stay the whole time?"_

"_Why?"_

"_We have an extra ticket. Cordelia is to stay with Auntie Delphine." Anna rolled her eyes at the statement, sighing at her sister's antics. "Cordelia has exclaimed that she met the love of her life, and she is not going to give it up. Thus, mother obliged, leaving us with an extra ticket…perhaps if your debut finishes early enough, you could summer with us in New Orleans?"_

"_That sounds lovely," Bella said, her voice hesitant. She could not possibly leave Alexander's side for the whole summer, but continued to humor her cousin. "Tell me about your first season in New York?"_

_The scene faded once more, and Bella found herself ascending the staircase of the Mackenzie Manor. The ball was almost over, and the last waltz of the night would be played in the minutes to come. She heard noises from a half closed door. Silently, she pushed the doors to peak in, and was frightened by what she saw._

_She immediately pushed the door open, disregarding the other members of the room, and knelt by Alexander's side. _

_But he did not meet her gaze. He continued to inject the needle into his vein, hissing in delight. Sweat covered his body, his hair matted from the perspiration, clothes clinging to his form. Rapid breaths puffed from his mouth followed by a low moan._

"_A—Alex?" she stuttered._

_A gasp erupted from her mouth. Stumbling back upon the ground, she stared at him as he lifted his head._

_Wild, hungry eyes met her own, a lazy smirk forming on his lips. "Isabella, my pretty, innocent, Isabella," he crooned, crawling towards her._

"_Alex, are you alright?" Bella asked, her voice soft with concern. She picked up his hand within her own, noting the clammy feeling. "Are you ill? What was in that needle?"_

"_I am perfectly well now, Isabella. Do not worry. It was merely a vial of cocaine."_

_Her eyes widened slightly. She recalled the doctor once mentioning that cocaine had been used to treat morphine addicts. "Oh, Alex, you could have told me. I would not think any less of you for your addiction—"_

_Alexander bellowed with laughter, advancing closer to Bella, pinning her down with his body. Sloppily, he placed kisses around her face, burying himself at her neck, toying with the strands of hair. "Sweet, Isabella, I am not taking cocaine for treatment. It is for recreational purposes." His smirk broadened. "Would you like to try, pet? It is quite exhilarating. You will feel so good."_

"_No, please, just stop. Alex, there is something wrong with you. Let us go fetch your parents—"_

"_Shut up!" He growled. Anger replaced the amusement on his face. "You will do no such thing. No one will believe that I would be capable of such a thing. You will look like the fool here, Isabella, and I will not let my future wife be subjected to such a thing." Alexander snarled as she began to cry, delivering a slap to her face. "Did I not say to shut up? You will ruin everything that I have built!"_

"_W—what do you mean?"_

"_Did you actually believe that our meeting last summer had been one of coincidence? Let me tell you a story, Isabella, since you so obviously are a child. Once upon a time, France was my permanent residence. Music bored me, so I sought out other activities to amuse and humor me. Laudanum quench my thirst. After some time, I was introduced to a new substance. I heard of the effects of cocaine from the courtesans of Paris, and I dabbled in the various ways of having it in my body._

"_I learned that through needle injections that it worked faster. The feeling is so divine, Isabella. But my parents saw it otherwise. Upon a visit, they noticed my transgressions and threatened to disown me. I could not have that, so I silently obeyed. I was then told of a girl whose mother and father approached my parents. They bragged of her exceptional piano playing, and they offered their daughter as dowry to enroll in the Royal Academy of Music. At this point, my parents told me to pursue this girl, and if I succeeded in wooing her, I could continue with my vice."_

_Bella stared, horrified, swallowing Alexander's spiteful words. "No…"_

"_Now, pet, be silent," he pawed around the area, grabbed for a syringe, and twisted her arms to him. "And stay still…"_

"_No, no, no, no…"_

"Bella!" Alice grabbed for her wrists, avoiding her slapping hands, and continued to shake Bella awake. Once her eyes opened, she froze, taking in her surroundings, her chest heaving as she gulped for air, and stopped. Tears pooled in her eyes and her body wracked with heavy sobs. "All is well, Bella. It was just a nightmare. You are safe."

_But I am not safe_. She thought, rubbing her forearm. The prick of the needle was almost tangible. "What time is it?"

"It is nearly five," Alice responded, smoothing hair away from her friend's sweaty face. Sympathy poured from her heart for Bella. It seemed as though things were slowly becoming more of a trial. "Would you like to speak of it?"

"No…I cannot remember most of it," she lied.

Staring at her for moments longer, Alice left Bella at peace, claiming that they should ready themselves for breakfast and another round of courses. Bleary eyed, Bella rose from her bed, but stopped as she glanced at Alice's stocking clad feet. Faint purple bruises marked the delicate, pale flesh, blisters marring the tips of her toes. When asked, Alice merely shrugged at Bella as if the wounds were nothing of importance. "The repercussions of a ballerina."

After no other elaboration on the subject approached, Bella sat at the vanity, pinning her hair unruly hair into a messy bun. It was not until a quarter till six where they exited their dormitory and entered the dining hall. The hall had been a scarcity of people, yet once food had been set on the tables, students filed in and took their seats. Morning post had been passed and after prayers were said, everyone began filling their ravenous stomachs. All except Edward had been present.

"We are being called to Derbyshire," Jasper murmured, reading the piece of parchment firmly grasped in his hands. "_All _of us."

"What for?"

"It appears as though both Emmett and Rosalie are settled in Chatsworth with our great uncle's blessing. They are to be remarried in three weeks, for they wished for their kin and friends to witness their marriage."

Alice laughed, took the parchment from Jasper, and shook her head at the letter. "Married in St. Werburgh's Church, no less. This is Rosalie's doing, though a holiday in Derby does not seem to unappealing."

"Derby?" Edward asked quietly, stopping behind his chair, cautiously throwing glances between both Alice and Jasper. "What _of_ Derby?"

"We are all to attend a proper ceremony in the city."

Their silent exchange of stares and conversation did not go unnoticed by Bella, but she could not pry. The incident from the previous night paired with the hellish nightmare had been more than she could bear. It had all been so fresh. So concrete. Then again, dreams were only a reflection of our lives. And it hardly helped that she constantly received letters.

"Oh, Bella. We shall have our hair pinned with pretty, netted pearls—feathers as well! I cannot wait—"

"I do not think I—"

Edward's gaze veered to Bella's almost immediately. His face had paled an almost sickly tone of alabaster. Distress lay on the curve of his slackened jaw, and his body, Bella noted, was shaking. "_You _are coming to _Derby_?"

"I…that is—"

"No need to be rude, _Mr. Cullen_." Alice glared angrily at Edward, seething with disapproval. "Of course she is coming. She is a dear friend of ours and is part of our lives."

"Pardon. I did not mean to sound rude."

Bella flushed crimson at his underlying tone. The alarmed façade from before had been all but erased, replaced with a worried, charming smile, and she merely nodded and stared at her preserved coated bread.

"Bella, are you not going to open your letter?"

She gaped at Alice for a moment before shaking her head. "It is nothing of importance."

"You have been saying that quite a lot lately. Oh, dear, is it from that wicked mother of yours?" Alice whispered, eyeing her friend. "I hope she will allow for you to join us in Derby. I could have my mother ask if it would help."

Thanking her for her offer, Bella denied Alice. She did not have the heart to tell her that her mother had very well been informed of Alice's cousin and Lady Mackenzie's heady words of staying clear from _that Brandon girl_. "It is not from my mother, and I am sure I can persuade her for permission."

Breakfast passed within the hour and so commenced morning classes. They day began with a somewhat tense lesson with Instructor Rochford, Edward, and their younger peers. The following course contained verbal in Russian, Latin, and French, but luckily Jasper had been in the same period. Subsequently, she saw Edward yet again during voice lessons, but both Alice and Professor Shields had yet to appear.

"It seems as though schooling has become quite more bearable now that _bad _company is no longer kept," Cecelia said all too loudly, her followers shrieking with laughter. "The blonde beast is here no longer."

"Miss Ismay, might I say that you are a most exceptional actress."

Cecelia lifted her eyebrows at Bella's statement, her permanent sneer upon her face. "I do not understand what you are insinuating, Miss Swan."

"It is quite simple, really. Here you are, polished and well-bred, coming from a decent family, but you lack both appreciation and grace." Light snickers came from the room. "You speak ill of Miss Hale—oh, pardon—_Lady McCarty_, yet was it not her family who helped fund your father's last shipping endeavor? Perhaps you would not be wearing that pretty little coat of yours or that diamond brooch? A real lady takes each gesture with grace. But you are forgiven."

"Well—I—"

"You do not need to explain yourself." Bella stepped closer to Cecelia, pulling her into a hug, feigning remorse, whispering tersely in her ear. "I know exactly who you are, Miss Ismay. You are a gossip mongering tart whose only purpose in life is to marry and bed a man of wealth. Do not pretend that no one can see through this front you so desperately try to hold. This pretty little mask, yet underneath is an ugly and black heart. Your cheap, tawdry words are rich with vitriol, and they are no better than what actions you withhold." She pulled back to face Cecelia, a tight smile on her face as she murmured. "Do you honestly expect to gain Mr. Cullen's favor by slandering his most beloved cousin? I think not. Head my warning, Miss Ismay. This act of yours will surely slip when the time calls for it."

Bella strode to her position up front just as Alice arrived along with Professor Shields. Lessons began, but all she could think of was the quick glimpse of Edward she had caught. Traces of intrigue and mirth were all she could catch, but she did not dare look back for a second look.

-:-

Yet another storm approached the horizon of London. The days of sun passed long ago, but he fiercely yearned for summer nights in the country. Those were the times when he was truly happy. Days spent at his mother's side during his infancy, toying with the ivory keys as she taught him his first song. Although difficult to learn as a young child, he eventually fulfilled his mother's wish. It was Elizabeth's hope that one day her young boy would fall in love, much like she had. In her just opinion, everyone deserved a true romance.

He remembered how his mother would carry a large pocketbook with her everywhere. In it contained various musical pieces she had collected over the years. On that summer day, she opened her pocketbook, pointing at a specific piece that was freshly composed only years prior.

"_Liebesträume_," _Elizabeth chided, running her delicate fingers through his tousled bronze hair_, "_is the song of love. Listen to me, Edward. One day you will be a fine pianist just like your Mama, and one day you will meet a young lady. She will be different from all the young ladies you will meet. She will neither deny nor accept your friendship—an intelligent move on her part. This is the girl you will love. This is the song you shall play."_

_His nose scrunched with distaste at his mother's words. Inherited, emerald eyes from his mother stared helplessly as his five-year-old eyebrows furrowed a first of his brooding outburst. "But, Mama, I do not want to be friends with girls! Rosalie always trips me and that Brandon girl won't leave Jasper and I alone when we play marbles!"_

"_Rosalie is a spirited girl and your kin. She is much like your sister. No matter her mood, you will treat her with the utmost respect." She smiled fondly at the mentioning of the other children. "And little Alice Brandon follows you because she loves Jasper."_

"_But Jasper is a grown boy! We are five and she is just turning four!" He exclaimed wildly, his four, chubby fingers waving before his mother as if to prove a point._

"_Sweet boy, love knows when it has found its match. One day you will know." Elizabeth stared at her child, pulling him into her lap, laying her hand atop his head. She rocked back and forth, savoring the warmth of her child. Pressing her lips upon his curly-haired head, she pulled him back to face her. "Can you make me a promise, my son?" Edward nodded to please her, confused at the sudden change of his mother's mood. "Promise me that you will not be what this society accepts men as. Do not stray from the ideals I have taught you. Grow into a handsome young man. Play the piano to remember our time together. Enjoy your life. Take risks, but only those that you can accept to lose. But most importantly, promise to be good, Edward."_

"_I promise, Mama."_

Edward fisted the glass of scotch in his hand and hurled it angrily against the wall with a vicious snarl. His chest heaved in deep, anguished breaths at the thoughts from his past. Nothing seemed to have been working. He stared at the fire, its intensity liquefying the emerald gems of his eyes. Another night claimed Pierce Academy, setting yet another heavy toll upon his head. No one would have heard the noise. They would all have been dining on their suppers, mindless and careless creatures of God.

Promises. Made and broken.

Ruined like the glass of scotch.

Shattered, much like him.

"I am sorry to have failed you mother." Edward hunched forward in his chair, cradling his face within his hands to muffle the choked sobs wracking from his throat. Only he was to blame for his past indiscretions. For his reckless behavior. For not being _good_.

After losing his most beloved mother, home had simply no longer been home. His father would dare not to look at him, his own son. It physically pained Edward Sr. to stare at a reminder of what he had lost. The same unruly, bronze mane and haunting forest, green eyes made Edward Sr. feel as though God had been taunting him. In only the moments he lost his wife did Edward Sr. realize how much his son looked liked his mother. He had always prided himself in saying his son inherited his bone structure, nose, ears, personality…now he was nothing but a bitter reminder.

Not a week after his mother passed did Edward find his father in the study of their cold, empty home. The setting was all too familiar. Roaring fire. Empty bottles of scotch. Inebriated sobs. Except the man in the chair had been Edward Sr. instead of his son. Broken hearted, Edward walked into his father's study, attempting to make conversation.

"_Elizabeth," Edward Sr. sobbed over and over again, as if repeating her name were a benediction. A photograph lay in his lap, tearstained, the edges licked brown with age while an empty glass dangled in his hand._

_Edward walked into the room slowly, grabbed another chair, and sat it next to his father's. The screeching from settling his chair caught his father's ear, and for the first time since the funeral, their eyes met._

_Through his drunken state, he stared curiously, whispering, "You look like my darling Elizabeth."_

"_Father…it is me…Edward, your son."_

_But it did not break the induced state his father had been in. Edward Sr. merely filled his glass and another, handing one to his son. "Take it, boy," he said gruffly, staring at the dark, oak floorboards._

_Hesitantly, he took the glass, lifting the liquid to his nose. He was but a boy of fifteen. The only time he drank was sweet wine on holidays and when Emmett had snuck some from his father's stash. "Father—"_

"_Go on, drink it. You are a man now."_

_Staring at the glass, he lifted it, trying to down it as his father had. He sputtered, violently coughing, his eyes watering at the burning sensation in his throat. "This is awful."_

"_No, boy, it is redemption." Edward Sr. lifted his gaze, hollow eyes boring into his son's. "Drink to forget."_

Soon after Edward found that the only way he could speak to his father was when they were both drunk. Not a perfect ending, but one at that. It was a vicious cycle of theirs, one that Edward did not want to break. They refused invitations for visitation. Lord and Lady Cullen begged with Edward Sr., but could not get through. Turning to their nephew, they offered to take him in, explaining that his father could find solace from his craving of alcohol. But Edward refused their help, screaming of their faithlessness. His father was not a drunk, he argued. Yet two months after the funeral of his mother, Edward found his father lying in bed, empty bottles liquor shattered on the floors of his room.

Edward Sr. had been cold as the murderous ice that left beautiful, lush trees dead in winter. Another funeral was held.

That was the second time Lord and Lady Cullen offered Edward a place to stay. But he did not hear their words. He could not hear. All Edward could hear were the haunting words of his father.

_Drink to forget._

He needed redemption.

And so Edward ran far, far away, seeking other means of freedom and salvation, but what he found had been short-termed. He sought relief through any means necessary…and he fell.

Shaking his head, he cleared the flask of scotch, not bothering with the shattered mess. He walked towards the door, though immediately hid behind a desk once the door flew open. Holding his breath, Edward prayed not to be caught, for he direly required sleep. Watching the figure walk towards the fire, he noticed, to his surprise, it was Bella.

She withdrew a letter, the same one Alice argued about with her during breakfast, and threw it in the fire. Without another word, she exited the room, walking up the stairs to her dormitory.

Edward quickly ran back to the fire, prodding the parchment out from the flames, but could only see one distinct mark. He stared, watching as the wax melted away the last remnants of its symbol, and strode away with one thought.

_If Miss Swan is so distraught by Alexander Mackenzie's name, why was she receiving letters with the Mackenzie family crest sealed upon the envelope?_

-:-

**I am sure most of you by now know of the catastrophic events that have occurred in Haiti. They really need help, so FF very own MsKathy has organized a fundraising event. Go to her profile and check it out. For just a $5 donation to the charity of your choice, you will receive a compilation of different lengths from different authors. I myself have donated such story to help on the efforts. You can find more information on MsKathy profile, The Fandom Gives Back, or the link at the top of my profile. Anything helps, guys. It is so easy to donate.**

**Authoress Note: **So, to explain the lack of updating, let me sum it up as: Car accident (not my fault), back pain, dislocation of a disk in my lumbar region, hip-bone shifted downwards, painkillers, Xanax, Organic Chemistry, studying for PCATs/MCATs, and applications. Trust me. I would rather be writing than be in the position I am in now. I am still recovering and unfortunately I start school again. I hope this nice, big chapter makes up for it. Lots of drama. Yup. Told you! For those who review, I am thinking of posting outtakes for this story, such as Emmett and Rosalie's backstory, Alice's dancing, elaborating on Bella/Edward's pasts, etc. If you are interested, let me know. What do you want to see the most?

**Recommendations: **Hydraulic Level 5 by Gondolier, High Anxiety by Edwardsbloodtype, Living Backwards by Ciaobella27, Edward Wallbanger by feathersmmmm, Bonne Foi by Amethyst Jackson, Scotch, Gin, and the New Girl by Jandco/withthevampsofcourse, Bella Swan: Kidnapper by Kambria Rain, and Holding Out For You by ObsessingOverEdward

**Big and major props to my girl and beta Leiahlaloa. She keeps me sane, kids. It isn't beta'd at the moment, so bear with me :)**

**_Fun Facts: _**

+Cocaine was used to treat morphine addiction

+Nonna and Nonno mean grandmother and grandfather in Italian

+The phrase "to lie back and think of England" was a phrase told to young women before they got married. It is meant that on their marriage night, before sexual intercourse with their husbands, they are just to lay down and let the man do his work.

+Some parts of this story are based on true events in my life

+The song Bella is playing in the beginning is Moonlight Sonata


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